The Butcher of Menelax
by The Hippy Griff
Summary: For every war that is remembered, two more are forgotten. However to those at who suffered at the hands of the Butcher of Menelax, Tholians and Starfleet alike, it was a nightmare that would last forever.
1. Chapter 1

As the sun began to set in the darkening sky, the Jesh'lon household was bustling. Family members of four generations were gathered together in the large house, all merrily engaging in family antics with the happy energy of that the Tellarites loved. The children played in their little indoor den adjoining the main room, the younger ones dancing happily while the older children tried to stay aloof from their younger siblings and cousins. The adults themselves were mixed between the kitchen and the main room, gossiping happily with frequent affectionate insults, It was a truly happy family.

The one dark spot of the household was an elderly Tellarite who sat in his chair with the air of someone who, come hell or high water, simply wouldn't be budged. Patriarch, as he was known to his family, was a curmudgeonly antisocial old fellow, but he was also a respected one. The eyepatch, long white beard and missing right tusks gave him a fearsome visage, but nevertheless, the old man occasionally leaned backward to peek into the children's play-den, just to check that they were okay. The gossiping women in the living room noticed, but taking their cue from the energetic old Matriarch, they left the old man be rather than tease him. Indeed, most of the time Patriarch simply gazed at the large vid-screen that dominated the living room.

The old man had been almost entirely quiet for two hours before, finally, the old film began to roll to its end credits, and he sparked to life.

"Alright, alright!" Patriarch barked suddenly, startling everyone in the house with his booming voice. "The news is about to start! Everyone get in here, and bring drinks you lazy ingrates!"

The youngest of the adult women present, only 19, sighed as everyone startling bustling to his orders. Bixel got out of her chair and knelt down next to Patriarch, smiling sympathetically. "Grandfather, it's just going to be the same that it always is. The news has been so boring since we were cut off from the Federation networks. Can't we just let it be and celebrate your birthday?"

The glare that Patriarch responded with was withering. "Young people. Pah. Don't you _care _what happens to our world?" He glanced at the screen as it began to shift to a flashy title sequence, and he shushed her with a hand motion. "Shush, shush, it's starting. Everyone get in here! Last one to get in has to taste test Hupnum's pie tonight so the rest of us don't get poisoned!"

The family gathered in quickly (with an indignant little huff from Hupnum), a couple of them snorting loudly in irritation at Patriarch's order. The children came too, sitting obediently on the carpet before the screen, while everybody else either sat in the available chairs or simply stood wherever there was space. The news title sequence finished, the image gradually fading in to a smartly dressed Andorian who looked back at the camera with a professional little smile.

"Good evening," he said with a polished tone. "This is Shall ir-Khalman, it's 2000 capital time and this is the Menelax Evening News. This afternoon, the planetary governor and ruling council met with the head of the Tholian occupying force, Admiral Aurijene, to discuss the future of Menelax under Tholian rule." The entire family seemed to take a nervous breath. "After returning from the Tholian base in the Georgiou Cliffs, the governor and the council immediately went into closed session. There is, as of yet, no word on any specifics that were discussed with the admiral. However, the council spokeswoman is due to give a press conference at 0810, nine minutes from now, which we will of course be broadcasting to you live for what has been touted as the most important press conference since Menelax was colonised."

"They _always _say that," Matriarch muttered before she was shushed.

"Protests have been held in every major city and town on the planet today, commemorating thirty days since the Tholian battlegroup arrived in Menelax orbit, destroying the still under-construction Starbase 60 and the Starfleet vessel USS Gallant. Despite concerns about punitive measures by Tholian troops, the Tholians have so far ignored the protests without comment. This continues their stance of permitting normal Menelax life to continue without interference, although police have warned that citizens should not become complacent. While the only Tholian ground troops on the planet have remained confined to their fortress sixty kilometers from the capital, the chief inspector reminded everyone that should Tholian soldiers act, there is little that the police can do."

"Pah!" Patriarch snorted. "Lilly-hearted yellow-bellied wannabes. 'Little they can do' my hairy arse. The second they see a Tholian soldier, they'll surrender on the spot!"

"Father!" one of his elder sons said reproachfully. "You're an ugly distrustful bastard. What else can the police do? All they have are stun phasers, and those are Tholian elite troops! Some of the best in the quadrant!"

Patriarch, not inclined to admit that he had been unfair, just grunted.

As they talked, the news report continued on, and finally the screen changed now to an attractive young Andorian standing outside some elaborately decorated doors. Floating drones surrounded her, recording every word while the reporters politely waited for her to speak. "Good evening to you all," she said somberly, her antennae curled forward in a grim look. "As I'm sure is well known, the council and I have just returned from the extended negotiations with Admiral Aurijene of the Tholian military. I must report, to my great sorrow, that these were not negotiations at all." She took a deep breath. "Instead, Admiral Aurijene proffered an ultimatum to the planetary authorities, as well as some very grim news."

"This is it," Patriarch whispered, his beady old eyes glued to the screen just like everyone else.

"He reported," the Andorian governor said heavily, "that the Federation Council, unwilling to risk a full scale war with the Tholian Assembly, has formally ceded Menelax to Tholian rule. Starfleet, citing military realities, is unable to liberate our world. As such, the Tholians have...generously...indicated that all Federation citizens on Menelax will be evacuated within eighteen months. He has directed the planetary government to begin preparations for a mass evacuation, that will be done in an orderly fashion with no...resistance...to our Tholian rulers." The spokeswoman paused, and it suddenly became obvious that a white-hot fury burned beneath her polite politician's demeanor, her teeth clenched. "He has not yet suggested how this mass evacuation shall take place, but we have been assured that appropriate transport will be secured in time to return everyone to Federation space. That is all. Further details will be provided tomorrow. Thank you all for listening."

A stunned silence pervaded the house while the news program continued, the shocked news presenter recovering with professional alacrity as he moved on to other news subjects. The children looked at each other, plainly not quite understanding what was happening, but the adults could scarcely believe it.

"That's it?" Hupnum spoke first in a small, tinny voice, standing at the back of the room. "We just leave our homes like that? They're going to abandon us? Those bastards!"

Moving quickly, her husband moved to embrace her as she sobbed into his shirt. He looked around, but rather than distraught, he looked furious. "What's the point in Starfleet if they won't protect us? And what's that stupid cowardly nonsense about military realities!? They beat off the Klingons and Romulans for fifty years, and now they can't protect one colony against the Tholians?"

The children, sensing the distress of the adults, gradually began to cry, whining with distraught little noises. Like a spark, it set off the rest of the family off, and they descended into a half dozen separate conversations, decrying the idiots on Earth who had decreed their fate.

Matriarch, knowing better, looked at her husband with a silent look that was filled with meaning. The battered old man grunted, shaking his head. "Could be," he said to her, his voice carrying to her chair despite the distraught din of their family's chatter. "Starfleet are a bunch of sissies. I saw enough stupid fools in uniform when I was flying, and most of 'em are spineless idiots. Kirk is dead and the Enterprise is retired...could be that was all that was keepin' them strong."

Matriarch nodded sagely as she picked up one of the crying children, cradling the sobbing boy against her breast. "They can't evacuate us all, can they?"

Patriarch's large nostrils flared as he snorted. "What, carry nine million people in eighteen months? Of course not. That Tholian bastard is lying through his teeth. If they have teeth. There isn't enough Federation shipping to carry even half that, and they know it. Those treacherous crystal bugs are buttering us up for slaughter. " He paused, glancing back at their slowly panicking family. "It's going to get ugly, dear. It's going to get very ugly."

Closing her eyes briefly, Matriarch nodded before hugging her great-grandchild tighter. Then she opened her eyes again, glanced at the screen, and raised her bushy eyebrows, her wrinkled skin stretching in surprise. Patriarch followed her gaze, saw the suddenly revitalised news presenter on the vid-screen, and frowned.

"ALRIGHT, SETTLE DOWN AND SHUT UP YOU WHINING INGRATES!" he roared. His demand did the trick, instantly silencing the room and allowing everyone to hear the news presenter.

"-identify of the warp signatures, but...yes, it is now confirmed, spaceport sensors are detecting seven incoming signatures. The Tholian fleet is maintaining position, so the spaceport director is encouraging everyone to stay calm. This is almost certainly the first wave of Tholian reinforcements that were promised two weeks ago. I-yes, I have reports now that the police are ordering everyone to return to their homes, as these ships may be carrying ground troops to fully occupy Menelax. The governor is...oh, wait, we are now connected to a satellite in orbit which will be able to see the new arrivals come out of warp."

The screen flicked to a view of the blackness of space, the stars flickering innocently. "As you can see, they have clearly yet to arrive. We remind our viewers that it could be a few minutes yet before the ships come out of warp, but when they do arrive, we should be able to give you a perfect view. There is, as of yet, no sign of any reaction from the Tholian fleet. We remind viewers that these would be the first ships to arrive at Menelax since the Tholians attacked the planet a month ago. There has been some speculation about...oh, there they are!"

On the heel of his words, three ships decelerated out of warp together, clearly in a formation. But they weren't Tholian at all; instead, all three ships had the distinctive white hulls, nacelles and circular bows.

"Starfleet," Patriarch whispered, staring.

"Those are quite clearly Federation starships," the news presenter said quickly with professional equanimity. "We are receiving details from the spaceport authorities now that they are Miranda-class starships of Starfleet. They are the USS _Adroit_, the USS _Kupua_ and the USS _Alsace_." Then, behind them, another starship warped in, its saucer, secondary hull and high nacelles familiar to everyone in the room, even the youngest child. "Oh my word. That is a Constitution-class starship, ladies and gentlemen, the USS _Yorktown_, one of the oldest and most distinguished vessels in Starfleet."

Patriarch suddenly realised that his wife had reached out to hold his hand, and looking around the room, he saw the rest of his family making similar gestures. The onslaught of relief was overwhelming. And then the last three ships arrived, one after another in a line before the vanguard of the smaller Mirandas.

"And there go the last three ships. The spaceport director indicates that the first vessel is the USS _Stargazer_, a Constellation-class starship and one of the most modern in the fleet. The second vessel appears to be the USS _Churchill_, an Alliance-class starship, while the last ship, the largest, is one of the newest Excelsior-class starships in the fleet, the USS Everest. This is truly astonishing, ladies and gentlemen. A battle for the future of our world is about to begin in our skies...and, if you should choose to do so, you can watch it all here, on the Menelax Evening News."

* * *

For all the relief and tears of joy at the arrival of Starfleet, that optimism faded as the two fleets began to square off with each other in orbit. Patriarch, as an old spacefarer, gruffly provided his family with commentary throughout it all, even if he hated to do it. Unlike everyone else, he had been up there, had felt the darkness of cold vacuum and the awful heat of overloaded conduits, merciless weapons fire and the blood of his friends. He knew what was about to happen up there, to Starfleet and Tholian alike, and he wanted nothing more than to stay silent, but he narrated anyway.

The Tholians outnumbered Starfleet more than two to one, fifteen golden warships against seven silver starships. Still, the Tholian vessels were smaller and less well-armed, although their sole battleship was even bigger than the Excelsior-class USS Everest. It was, at least roughly, a fair fight.

Which meant that when the shooting began, it turned into a blood-soaked nightmare.

The phaser and torpedo fire was intense, cutting into both fleets with horrible results. Tholian ships exploded one by one, overwhelmed, but they inflicted their own lethal wounds on their enemies. The _Adroit _was badly hit early on, its nacelles going dark with damage, and the crippled ship withdrew from the battle. Then the _Alsace_ was destroyed, the nimble Miranda overextending on an attack run and falling under the guns of the Tholian battleship which obliterated the small vessel in a single devastating salvo.

The _Yorktown _was next. The elderly Constitution-class ship was caught by four Tholian ships that quickly spun a web, snaring their prey. The other Starfleet ships rushed to save their stricken comrade, but to no avail. The golden strands of the web contracted slowly as escape pods launched away from the stricken vessel until finally, the strands of the web touched the silver hull, and as if like throwing a switch, the _Yorktown_ exploded as well. The children gasped in horror; stunned. They had all heard stories about the legendary _Yorktown_, its many captains and its famed adventures, and they'd even imagined their own adventures with that ship in the playground. Seeing it die broke their little hearts.

But the carnage wasn't yet done. After two hours of fighting, with the Starfleet task force occasionally withdrawing to regroup, the four ships still capable of battle once again returned to attack the Tholians. By now, the Tholian force was in shambles; only three of the smaller frigates remained along with their battleship, but they gamely turned to meet their attackers. The end result was quick in contrast to the long, deadly slog of the past two hours, but no less horrible for it.

The last smaller Tholian frigates were blown away with contemptuous ease by the _Churchill_ and the Stargazer,, but their attack runs left the _Everest_ and the _Kapua_ vulnerable to the damaged but still dangerous Tholian battleship. Bright red phasers and torpedoes were fired in desperation, but the Tholians continued with grim determination, their golden weapons brutally battering the _Everest_. One of its long nacelles went dark and a huge explosion carved away a huge chunk of the secondary hull, and content that its prey was defeated, the Tholian battleship turned away to destroy the outgunned _Kapua _just as it had destroyed the _Alsace_. The _Churchill_ and the _Stargazer_ rushed desperately in to save their doomed comrade...but they were too late.

Instead, from nowhere, the crippled _Everest _suddenly surged into motion, rushing towards the Tholian battleship. There was no time to evade; the Tholians had barely begun to turn away when the _Everest_'s rammed directly into the battleship, the hulls crumpling around each other before finally vanishing in a blinding explosion.

Silence filled the family home. Nobody had any idea how to react. They just watched the screen in stunned horror.

"Well, how about that," Patriarch said bitterly. "They 'won'."

"Is it over, Grandfather?" Bixel, his eldest granddaughter, asked hesitantly.

Thinking of the Tholian fortress only sixty kilometers away from the city, still manned by soldiers, Patriarch sighed. "I wish it were, Bixel. I wish it were."


	2. Chapter 2

"I don't know if I can do this, Yin."

The frank words sounded odd from their speaker, but the self-doubt in her tone was unmistakable. Captain Agatha Schmidt, commanding officer of the USS _Stargazer_, was a forlorn sight in one of the largest conference rooms of her ship. With long blonde hair and brown eyes, the middle-aged German woman had a classical beauty that couldn't be denied, and her smart brick-red uniform only added to her presence. But now, sitting in her chair with only her XO to bear witness, she looked utterly despondent.

"Three other captains, all of whom have combat experience, and seniority regulations puts me in charge," she continued sullenly. "We're scientists, Yin. I've never even fired a phaser in battle. But now we have to deal with this, and if we get it wrong…"

Sitting in the chair next to her, Commander Yin Soo-Lung sighed. "We start a war. No pressure, my friend."

Captain Schmidt rubbed her brow. "Aren't you supposed to say 'It's all going to be okay, you're qualified to do this, we'll win the day and come out heroes'? Is that not your exact job description?"

Her XO responded by shooting her a thoroughly wry look. "It's all going to be okay," he said, deadpan. "You're qualified to do this. We'll win the day and come out heroes."

Schmidt eyed him with irritation. "It's a good thing that you're a good XO. You'd make a terrible comedian."

The Commander was still grinning when the doors opened, and quickly covering their prior expressions with professional smiles, Schmidt and Soo-Lung stood. They greeted the group of officers who entered, the command staff of the USS _Churchill_, with the usual mix of handshakes and small-talk that occurred whenever officers of different ships met. Soon enough the officers of the USS _Kapua_ arrived, then finally the officers of the USS _Adroit_, until finally the large conference room was full to the brim with people talking amongst one other.

Schmidt, having no desire to rush toward what was coming, simply made small-talk with most people just standing around the large central table. Everyone had come early so they had a few minutes which she could excuse for mingling, and Schmidt was famously very German with her strict adherence to punctuality. Nobody suggested that they get to business. She could talk with Captain Eccles about his famous encounter with the Xindi, with Commander Geffray about his service on the _Lexington_, and even to Lieutenant Griffin about his legendary old mentor, an esteemed Vulcan who had once served with Schmidt.

Eventually, however, the grace period ended as 1300 hours loomed. After receiving a pointed look from her XO, Schmidt sat down in her chair at the head of the table. It only took a minute or so for everyone else to take the hint and take their own seats, a silence swiftly falling in anticipation.

"Everyone, welcome to the _Stargazer_," she said with a warm smile, although her smile quickly died as she continued on. "I know that we're all struggling to accept yesterday's losses. The loss of Admiral Ferreira, Captain Wickes, as well as the crews of the _Yorktown_, the _Alsace_, the _Everest_...none of this can or should be dismissed easily. But because of their sacrifices, we have to continue on. We must go on and end this war in their memory, and to save as many lives as we can."

She paused, then sighed. "As all of you know, the Tholians have a small fortress on the planetary surface about fifty kilometers outside the capital city. What most of you did not know until now, except captains and some senior officers, is that the Tholians are building a weapon in that base. Sensors have confirmed the presence of protomatter and other relevant materials inside the fortress that indicate that the Tholians are constructing something similar to a Genesis Device. Starfleet Intelligence agents on the ground, as well as signal traffic from monitoring stations and intel relayed from Earth, indicate that the Tholians will not wait to activate their device. They will use it immediately."

The looks of horror from around the table from those who didn't know was chilling. "But that would turn Menelax into a Venusian hothouse world," one dumbstruck lieutenant protested. "Nothing humanoid would survive. They'd commit mass murder just to terraform a planet for Tholian colonists? Even after we've just taken the planet back?"

"Yes," Schmidt said, her voice cracking slightly before she recovered. Even with all night to absorb that awful news, she was still trying to come to terms with it. "We can only assume that they believe we'll abandon the world after that rather than fight a war of vengeance. Or it may be an act of desperation. Either way, we need to destroy that device."

She nodded to the right at Captain Eccles of the _Kupua_, who stood up promptly. He tapped at the controls on the table and a large hologram popped into existence over it, showing what appeared to be a large orange building that was seemingly merged with a small mountain. The orange metal looked astonishingly alien compared to the grey rock it was locked inside of, but most disconcerting were the great rock walls that ran out from either side of the mountain. It resulted in an immense box canyon, with tall walls of rock on either side, the Tholian base beyond, and the looming mountain high overhead. The ground itself seemed reasonably flat and even, but it was a thoroughly intimidating place all the same.

"As you can see," Captain Eccles said with his heavily accented Canadian English, "the Tholians have worked hard on this place over the past few weeks. They planned on making this fortress impenetrable, and early indications are that they've succeeded. The base's shields are extremely tough, for instance." On the hologram a transparent green dome appeared, extending from the base to nearly outside the box canyon. "Transporters, obviously, will not function. Nor will other unconventional means of defeating energy shields, as the Tholians appear to have overcome any vulnerabilities by sheer brute force. Conventional phaser bombardment is also impractical. The fortress' proximity to the planetary capital means that if we breach the reactor that they're using for power, or worst of all the protomatter, casualties will run into the millions."

Eccles rubbed his chin wearily. "I'll spare you all the rest of the details. My people have been working on this with a team from the _Stargazer_ for twelve hours and have nothing. We just can't get into that fortress. In any case, even if we could manage to beam in a small strike team, intelligence suggests that the Rachnil Brigade are in there. That's ninety of the some of the best soldiers in known space. Even the Klingons have never beaten them."

Schmidt very subtly put both her hands beneath the table. It wouldn't help for the new task force CO to be seen nervously wringing her hands. Or for those hands to be shaking. She took a deep breath then spoke up once more as Eccles sat back down.

"Captain Sulu's task force will arrive in just over three weeks along with the Marines of the Andorian Imperial Guard. They can breach that fortress, most certainly, but I would much rather get the job done ourselves than risk the Tholians setting off this device in the meantime. Captain Halk, I know that the _Adroit_ was badly damaged in the battle, but have your crew thought of anything?" The stony-faced Tellarite captain shook his head grimly, and Schmidt turned to Captain Copeland of the _Churchill_, although she clearly didn't expect good news. "Captain Copeland?"

The enigmatic captain to everyone's surprise, looked uncomfortable. "Yes, we do," he said reluctantly. A few people shared incredulous looks; Copeland, often compared to Kirk in his younger days, was well known as a skilled gambler and an unshakable warrior. "My security chief has developed a plan. Proceed, lieutenant."

Beside Copeland sat another human, who looked especially prim and proper in his uniform as he stood up. "Lieutenant Cailus Griffin, Chief of Security for the Churchill," he introduced himself curtly. Unlike everyone else, there was no friendliness or emotion in his voice whatsoever. "We have identified two key weakness of the Tholian fortress that they could not overcome. Their energy shield does not have total coverage. It dissipates entirely about six meters above the ground near the entrance to the canyon."

A gruff commander, his gold collar and cuffs indicating him to be an engineer, spoke up. "That's all fine and dandy, but it doesn't help us penetrate the base. We can't get a transporter beam down into that gap, and they sure as hell won't let us just walk in."

Griffin nodded, his manner still cold. "Yes sir, I agree. But that does leave us with one option available: a massed infantry assault." He tapped the controls, and the new features on the hologram appeared at the base of the canyon. A long deep trench now extended all the way from one rock wall to the other, with a handful of small buildings now in place out of sight of the fortress. "The second weakness is that there are only ninety Tholian soldiers there, sir. Respectfully, I don't care how they good are. Ninety troops is a substantially insufficient number to defend a fortress of that size, especially against a serious assault by a numerically superior force. With the security officers of all four ships, stiffened by combat-trained volunteers from other departments, we can amass a makeshift battalion of four hundred troops."

"Dear God," someone muttered under their breath, but Griffin ignored them.

"We split our battalion into four companies. The first three companies are charged with fighting through the canyon, overcoming all resistance and securing the exterior wall of the Tholian fortress. The fourth company would then breach the wall, enter the fortress and complete the assault, securing and deactivating the device."

Schmidt, having nodded along so far, then asked the critical question. "Casualties?"

Griffin didn't even hesitate. "Significant. I anticipate 40% casualties as minimum. Worst case scenario, our casualties may exceed 70%. There is also a serious risk that we could lose the entire landing force."

A stunned silence followed, everyone regarding the lieutenant with mixes of horror and shock. "That's not war," Captain Eccles said in disgust into the silence. "That's butchery. You're talking about throwing four hundred people into a killing field, using our crews as cannon fodder. That is morally reprehensible, Lieutenant. We do not, _ever_, use such barbaric tactics. Our crews are not cattle."

Still Griffin didn't flinch, simply answering the angry captain's glare coolly. "Respectfully, sir, there are times when slaughter and warfare amount to the same thing. It's ugly and distasteful, and I suspect that it is why the Tholians allowed this vulnerability in their defensive setup. They know that Starfleet would never utilise the human wave tactics required for such an assault. However, under the circumstances, we have no choice. The lives of four hundred troops in exchange for eight million civilians is not difficult arithmetic."

"If it's even necessary," Captain Halk observed quietly. "We have no concrete confirmation that the Tholians will activate the device in the next three weeks. The probability of such is remarkably low, given all relevant strategic and moral factors. The Tholian colonel would need to be an amoral monster of the highest order to commit such an atrocity, but that does not fit what we know about the Tholian military. Moreover, the Tholians must know that such atrocity would backfire. The Klingons would inevitably see an opportunity to punish them."

"So we wait, absolutely," Captain Eccles agreed firmly. "Sacrificing our people on a killing ground is not an option. Even the Klingons would hesitate to use such tactics. The Andorian Marines can handle this."

Schmidt, however, stayed silent, even as Eccles looked at her in clear expectation of agreement. She sighed, exchanging a brief look with her XO. "Lieutenant Griffin," she said gravely, "you can beat them, yes?"

Griffin nodded back. "Yes sir. I believe that there is an excellent chance that we can, and that we have to try. If there is even a small chance that the Tholians might finish their device soon, or that they might activate it, then we absolutely must do this."

Eccles, sitting to Schmidt's right, looked horrified. "Agatha, no. Please tell me you're not considering this. We are better than this."

Captain Copeland spoke up then, although the fair-haired human clearly found his words deeply distasteful. "No, we're not. I don't like it any more than you do, Patrick, but we have to try it. Anything less would be cowardice. Not physical cowardice, maybe, but certainly moral cowardice. We cannot shy away from the hard choices."

"Agreed," Captain Halk said quietly. "We must do it."

Schmidt closed her eyes briefly as she leaned her head into her hand, before finally coming to the decision.

"Very well. Let's this assault plan into action, everybody. Tomorrow, we begin the attack."


	3. Chapter 3

The landing of Starfleet troops on Menelax was planned with excruciating detail. Captain Eccles of the _Kupua_, despite his vociferous protests about the entire affair, took charge of planning the assault. With no sign of reluctance, he applied the full considerable might of his intellect upon it while pushing everyone assigned to his temporary staff to work to the point of exhaustion. Countless aspects of the landing operation were considered. Contingency plan after contingency plan was devised, topography was studied in detail, equipment loadouts were discussed, and engineers were sent to modify all available shuttles with makeshift armour and reinforced shields. Even late into the night, Eccles drove everyone to analyse the available information on the Rachnil Brigade and their commander, a legendary soldier in her own right.

Everybody agreed that if the Tholians managed to inflict severe casualties as the Starfleet troops landed, the operation was dead. It was a worst case scenario that was hammered in to everybody's skulls constantly. Captain Eccles was a famous veteran himself, having seen countless crises throughout his career, and so nobody questioned how he was so confident of what would happen if the landing operation went wrong. Nobody dared.

As the shuttles were loaded up and the transporter rooms were filled, the command staff were intensely nervous. Captain Schmidt sat in her command chair on the _Stargazer_, her hands tightly clasped together to hide her nerves with her forcibly relaxed pose. Captain Halk of the _Adroit_, her ship barely spaceworthy, was able to excuse herself by being hip-deep in a damaged computer core as the landing operation began. Captain Copeland of the _Churchill_, despite his own experience with bloody conflict, stayed secluded in his ready room. Even though he'd allowed his security chief to present the plan, he was quietly and painfully convinced that it would turn into a massacre.

And Captain Eccles himself, leaning forward in his command chair with a predatory look in his eye, quietly dreaded the death that was about to happen. Even so, he'd been a soldier. He'd seen enough battle to know what would happen next, and so he was ready, even if he hated that he hadn't protested more firmly to that bloodthirsty bastard's plan. As the time passed, with all the planning done and hundreds of people ready to move, the order was eventually given with all its attendant consequences.

And so, when there was no opposition whatsoever to the landing operation, Captain Eccles felt faintly cheated.

The first landing parties were beamed down without any problems on either side of the entrance to the box canyon, out of sight of the Tholian fortress. The shuttles landed with ease on either side of the opening to the box canyon, disgorging their passengers with dramatic urgency that was now utterly anticlimactic given the lack of enemy fire in response. Clad in grey camouflage to match their surroundings, everybody rushed to their assigned tasks.

Within ten minutes, a secure perimeter was established. With twenty minutes, precise phaser fire from one of the starships in orbit carved a deep trench all the way along the entrance of the box canyon, allowing a safe way of transiting from one side to the other. Within forty minutes, armoured barricades were established. Within an hour, several small buildings were established with everything that was needed for the troops, from a barracks to a basic mess hall to an operations center.

By the time two hours had passed without any sign of Tholian soldiers or weapon fire, Captain Eccles felt more than faintly cheated. He felt insulted. He stood in the newly replicated operations center, a cramped little hut worked up by the engineers, considering the hologram floating atop the table with a bemused look.

"Well, this has all gone swimmingly so far," he said with a sarcastic grin to his assembled staff. They all wore bland grey camouflage now, with only their names, the Starfleet chevron and their rank pips to identify them on their left breast. "You'd wonder if the Tholians want to invite us on a date. Hannah, do I have you to blame for that?"

Lieutenant Commander Hannah Hale, Eccles' chief of security, responded with a completely inappropriate stuck out tongue as she grinned back. "No sir. Reports on my promiscuity with other species are greatly exaggerated, mostly by mean old captains who hold a grudge. I like to go hot, but not _that _hot!"

A soft chuckle spread around the group gathered around the table, Eccles himself smirking. "I'm shocked, Hannah. Shocked and dismayed. Well, everyone, setting aside our discovery of the one sentient species that Commander Hale won't mate with-" ("Hey!" Hannah protested) "this really is a best case scenario so far, better than we could have guessed. Therefore, under the circumstances, I believe that we can proceed with the next phase of this operation. We begin the first assault in two hours, everyone, at 1300 hours, following the assault plan. Alpha Company will go in first, clear the defences and secure the fortress exterior. Let's get this done and come home in time for tea and medals. Dismissed."

So ordered, the group began to file out, talking quietly as they left. After a few moments, though, Eccles called out, "Lieutenant Griffin, Commander Hale! Stay a moment."

He waited patiently for everyone to clear out, leaving just the three of them in the ops center. When the actual fighting began, personnel would staff the consoles on the exterior of the room handling various matters from sensors to communications to logistics, all to ensure that they weren't reliant on the ships in orbit. Without those people, the ops center felt oddly empty for a building that was only an hour old.

"Mister Griffin," Eccles said first, now in a more serious tone. "I didn't want to talk about this among everybody else, but it needs to be discussed. Thoughts?"

The cool-headed lieutenant replied with a tone so banal that he might well have been talking about the weather. "The Tholians are conserving resources for the exterior defence, sir. They didn't have enough troops to disrupt our landing operation and so they are going to break our spirit. They will inflict maximum casualties on the first assault wave."

Eccles sighed, glancing at his own security chief, who looked supremely uncomfortable. "I may not like the bastard, boss, but he's right," Hale said reluctantly. "It's the only logical reason to not counterattack us while we're landing. They don't have that many people, so exposing them like that would've been costly for them too. They'll focus on us in the canyon, and that means that Alpha Company is going to get shredded with little to no damage to the enemy."

"But the data from that attack will be critical," Griffin continued in the same relentlessly dry tone. "We'll be able to modify the subsequent attacks by Bravo and Charlie companies to adapt to their defences as soon as we know what they are. The sheer mass of a hundred people charging at once will force the Tholians to use everything they've got."

Hale winced, her lip curling in disgust. "You've got issues, Lieutenant. How screwed up must you be to throw away lives for _data_? How the hell did you even get through the Academy psych screening?"

"Hannah," Eccles said in a soft but firm voice that immediately quietened her, and Hannah smiled in contrition. "Under the circumstances, then, I will lead the first wave. Those people will need good leadership in that canyon. They're all smart enough to know what's going to happen in there."

A beat passed. "No sir," Griffin said quietly. Eccles gave him a sharp look, but Griffin was unaffected. "Respectfully, Captain, you're the operational CO and the man best equipped to lead this attack. Captain Schmidt has never seen battle, nor has Captain Halk, and Captain Copeland's allergy to the local pollen would kill him in minutes. It has to be you. After our people see what happens to Alpha, they'll need something truly special to go in there again. You're the only one who can provide that, sir."

Eccles sighed, leaning on the holotable. "And who would you propose lead Alpha, Lieutenant? Commander Gahmol hardly has an inspiring presence, regardless of his competence."

Griffin didn't hesitate. "Lieutenant Commander Hale, sir," he said curtly, nodding at the blonde. "You're skilled, capable and a natural leader. From what I've heard, you also might just be good enough to survive in there. Alpha will need you in that assault."

Hale groaned. "Are you seriously buttering me up so that I'll die heroically? You know, I'm not normally crass, but you are such an asshole!"

"Hannah," Eccles repeated in the same warning tone as before, drawing another apologetic look from her. Hale considered for a moment before finally shooting Griffin a glare of pure poison.

"He's right, boss," she said darkly. "We need you for the other assault waves, and we need someone to lead the first charge. That's me. It sure as hell isn't Mister Grumpy over here. And...well, maybe I'll survive. We got the mortars, we got air support, we got all our gadgets, and the Tholians haven't fired a shot. So...maybe it'll go well."

Eccles merely smiled sadly, looking upon the woman with fondness and sorrow in equal measure. "Very well. The order is given. Captain Schmidt has been hailing the Tholians non-stop since we came into orbit, so if they respond before we begin the attack, I'll delay it. If they choose to surrender, or at least to negotiate, we can get out of this with no bloodshed."

Hannah nodded, smiling. "And then we all get medals, promotions and vacation on Risa. Sounds good to me, boss. Skamm could use a vacation, you know. Being your XO is stressing him out." She then looked at Griffin, and her smile vanished in a heartbeat. "I'll see you once this is over, Lieutenant, assuming I'm still alive. You owe me a lot of drinks for this. I know a Vulcan geologist on Deneva who'd be perfect for you. She's a walking computer too, doesn't care at all about stupid things like feelings."

Griffin merely raised an eyebrow, and at Eccles' small gesture of dismissal with a tilt of his head, he made to leave. On the way, however, he paused at the door, looking back at Hale.

"I appreciate the offer, ma'an, but I'm married." He held up his left hand, showing off the wedding band, and then walked out. Hale and Eccles looked at each other in disbelief.

"What kind of screwed up bitch would marry _him_?" she said in whispered shock.


	4. Chapter 4

**WARNING: ** This chapter, as well those that follow it, include graphic and detailed descriptions of violence. Read at your own discretion.

* * *

During the two hours preceding the assault, the Starfleeters made their preparations without interruption. With still no sign of any Tholians within the base, there was a very real hope that the Tholians simply weren't there at all. As everyone geared up, with more and more people beaming down from the ships above, the younger and more junior officers and enlisted joked, bantered and chatted. Many of them, too inexperienced to know better, had convinced themselves that the assault would simply involve some dramatic running towards an empty base, a fun little exercise for the cameras.

Zero hour approached. Alpha Company, a ramshackle group of security personnel and volunteers from other departments on the ships, waited in the trench. They all looked identical, wearing grey fatigues while holding phaser rifles. All of them had phaser pistols on their belts, as well as communicators. Some even had combat knives on their belts, but most didn't bother, even subtly mocking those who did. Such barbaric weapons weren't in keeping with Starfleet, after all.

Finally, the time came. The sun was beginning to get low in the sky, directly behind the Federation line, adding a strange, surreal feeling to the evening. The silence was near total, save for the far off cry of birds. Nobody spoke in the trench, holding their rifles close as they gathered their nerves, facing the crude metal ladders that lay against the glassy rock. Their comrades, who would be staying in the trench to provide supporting fire from afar, offered reassurance through pats on the shoulder and friendly smiles.

Then Lieutenant Commander Hale shouted the order and, as one, a dozen troops climbed the ladders and went over the top of the trench behind the barricades that protected it. Then the giant white barricades themselves, three meters high and nearly eight meters across, began to move forward slowly on their small tracks, powered by tiny motors. A dozen more followed behind the first troops, and then another dozen, and another, lines of humans, Andorians and Tellarites surging up into the canyon. Finally, still strangely quiet, a hundred of them were massed together in a staggered line, protected by the slowly moving barricades. As per their orders, they didn't run, and with her blonde hair and confident poise, Hale herself set a powerful example as she walked steadily forward, her rifle in hand.

Still there was no response from the Tholians. The hundred troops moved through the shield perimeter without contest, huddling close, whispering to each other in the preternatural silence as they walked. Watching from afar, everyone began to hope that maybe, just maybe, the Tholians weren't going to fight.

Then everything erupted.

* * *

Back in the command center, Captain Eccles watched the battle with his staff on the large monitors, fighting the profound nausea in his stomach the entire time. The various available cameras, both from the starships in orbit and the shuttles that hovered high above the Tholians' transparent energy shield, ensured that the images were crisp and detailed. It was like a macabre form of cinema. Searing bright beams of energy lanced out into the attackers, angling around the barricades wherever possible to pierce unprotected flesh, and the command center staff could see the casualties in spectacular and horrifying detail.

One young ensign, barely graduated from the Academy, lost both her legs and collapsed screaming in the dirt. An older crewman, an Andorian, dived out of the way of a grenade only to suffer burns over most of his body, burning to death before their very eyes. The video footage was crucial, permitting the medical staff an early opportunity to identify and organise the mounting casualties, but Eccles nearly ordered the screens off anyway. He'd already seen one unfortunate engineer run out of the command center, retching, and at this rate, he wouldn't be far behind.

Still, despite the torrent of enemy fire and the mounting casualties, Hale and her people maintained the advance, getting closer and closer to the outside the Tholian base where the fighting would become far more even. Eccles clenched his fists, silently spurring his people on as the charred white barricades edged closer to the Tholian line. Just a little bit more…

Then, n a sudden rush and defying all logic, the Tholians leapt over their own wall and charged. The orange crystalline arachnids moved with unimaginable speed, and in a flash, they were amongst the Starfleet lines. There were only twenty of them, vastly outnumbered by the Starfleeters, but the Tholian soldiers cut down their prey with ruthless efficiency, jumping and diving around with lethal grace. It was a slaughter. Eccles stared in shock as he watched a single Tholian pull out a knife and brutally butcher three men in as many seconds, splattering blood and bodies onto the dirt, before vaporising a young woman's torso with a phaser.

"Retreat!" Eccles ordered hurriedly, and immediately everyone rushed to convey the order to the embattled troops over the comms. "All forces, retreat to our lines!"

The order couldn't possibly get through over the communicators, not when everyone was busy fighting for their lives, but it didn't matter. The Starfleeters, battered and overwhelmed, abandoned the moving barricades and broke. Frightened and panicked, they turned around and ran, first in ones and twos, and then like a breached dam, everyone was fleeing. Eccles saw Hale try to establish some sort of order to the retreat, some covering fire to protect them, but there was no use. Her shouted orders were ignored as the Starfleeters ran in blind panic, tripping over bodies and rocks as the Tholians ruthlessly cut them down.

But it wasn't over yet. They were barely halfway back when explosions rippled all along the lines, killing two dozen in an instant. Eccles saw Hale vanish in one of the mine detonations, her body hurtling high up before landing and skidding across on the ground, three of her limbs seeming to be blown off and her once beautiful features marred by blood and burns. The survivors, barely a fraction of the original hundred, just kept on running.

Eccles was about to bark another order when, to his deep relief, he found that someone had beaten him to it. The survivors were getting closer to friendly lines now, and their comrades were there to greet them, having climbed out of the trench. With one knee on the ground, they began to pour precise phaser fire into the mess that approached, and now it was the Tholians who were vulnerable. They danced and jumped with impossible alacrity around the bright blue phaser fire, looking very much like huge bright orange spiders, but even they couldn't avoid two hundred phaser beams for long. Just as the last panicked survivors reached the Starfleet lines, the last of the Tholians were cut down.

From the far off Tholian base, orange beams began to lance out again, cutting down more of the vulnerable Starfleeters who'd risen out of the trench to cover the retreat. This time Eccles saw the person who seemed to have given the order. Lieutenant Griffin stood tall as everyone knelt, almost daring the Tholians to try and hit him, and as the last survivors were hurried down into the trench, he barked out another order across the battlefield. Within a minute, everyone was back in the relative safety of the trench, dragging down whatever wounded they could reach.

The phaser fire faded away. Now the battlefield belonged only to the dead and the wounded. Their cries and moans were the only sounds within the canyon now, a pained epilogue to a slaughter.

In the command center, there was a sense of shock. Nobody had witnessed such a one-sided slaughter before. The cameras stayed on, giving a view of the bloodied and messy battlefield as well as the innumerable dead. Nobody even noticed when Lieutenant Griffin returned to the command center. They hadn't noticed him leave during the battle, either.

"Captain," Griffin said quietly as he got close to Eccles. "Our lines are secure, sir."

Eccles didn't speak for a moment. It took him a long moment to wrench his eyes away from Hale's broken body on the large viewscreen. He didn't even know if she was alive or dead. "How many made it back?" he asked quietly.

Griffin seemed to hesitate before speaking, glancing around the shellshocked people in the room. "Twelve, sir."

"Out of a hundred."

"Yes, sir."

Eccles nodded sourly. His hands were still clenched into fists. Eccles himself wanted desperately to hurt someone, to make someone _pay_. He knew better than to give in to such urges, but damn...damn, damn, damn…

"Captain Eccles!" the comms officer called, her voice low. "We're receiving a transmission from the Tholians, sir. They're hailing you specifically, by name."

"Onscreen," Eccles ordered sharply. The large central monitor switched from a view of the battlefield to what appeared to be a Tholian. The orange crystalline being looked utterly alien, its faintly arachnid shape only adding to its disturbing visage. It appeared to wear turquoise silk which bore unrecognisable shapes and characters, but what drew everyone's eye was the very lethal looking knife on the Tholian's left shoulder. After just seeing what such weapons could do in graphic detail, it was a chilling sight to everyone in the room.

"Captain-Eccles," the Tholian screeched in the odd stuttering speech of her species. Even with the Universal Translator, her speech sounded alien and jarring. "I-am-Colonel-Xalcrene-of-the-Rachnil-Brigade. I-regret-the-bloodshed. Your-warriors-fought-well."

Eccles scowled. "As did yours, Colonel, but nobody needed to die out there today. I trust that we have demonstrated our resolve by now. You are vastly outnumbered and outgunned. Are you prepared to discuss conditions of surrender?"

The Tholian's pointed orange head tilted to the side. "My-orders-do-not-permit-surrender. We-shall-fight-to-the-end." The deflation and grim despair in the command center at the Colonel's words was palpable. "However-we-offer-a-ceasefire-to-reclaim-all-wounded. We-will-not-fire-upon-your-medics. You-shall-not-fire-upon-our-medics."

Captain Eccles considered for barely a moment. "Agreed. We'll send out our medics immediately. That is a generous offer, Colonel."

On the screen, Xalcrene raised both his bright orange arms to the screen, his claws clicking in some unfathomable gesture. "War-is-horror. But-we-can-be-civilised."

The conversation was paused for a moment as a doctor rushed to Eccles' side, whispering rapidly into the captain's ear. Eccles nodded before looking back at Xalcrene. "Colonel, there is a hospital in the capital city which is equipped to treat Tholians. Your wounded won't be of any more use to your defence, but we may be able to save their lives if you let us take them. They shall be treated honourably as prisoners of war. We are also prepared to take your dead, where they shall be stored respectfully until they can be returned to your government."

A long silence followed before Xalcrene responded. "Agreed. Our-medics-will-also-help-your-wounded. End transmission."

* * *

The recovery of the wounded and dead was a grizzly business, but thankfully for all involved, it went peacefully. True to their word, the Tholians allowed their wounded to be taken to hospitals in the nearby city, and to general surprise, their own medics helped the Starfleet doctors treat the wounded of both sides in the canyon. Within a couple of hours, the battlefield had been cleared and the ceasefire was over.

Lieutenant Commander Hale survived, although she remained in critical condition in the _Kapua_'s Sickbay. The other casualties fared little better. Out of the hundred who had initially left the Starfleet lines, only twelve had returned unhurt. Sixty five people had died thus far, while another thirteen had suffered injuries of varying severity. Six of those thirteen were still in critical condition as night fell, their lives hanging in the balance as the doctors worked desperately to save them. Another five were still missing in action, presumed dead. Either their bodies had been blown apart beyond quick identification or they had been vaporised.

The Tholians, fighting in exosuits in an unforgiving atmosphere, suffered even worse. Only five of the original twenty survived, all with severe injuries of their own as a result of the Starfleet phasers.

Behind the Federation lines, the senior staff and most of the ground troops got some much needed sleep. Another attack was scheduled for the following day, this time intended to break through and win, so the order was given that everyone had to get some rest. In the trench, a mix of reserves and local law enforcement guarded the line, keeping a close eye on the Tholians, but nobody seriously thought that they'd try anything. The Tholians were impossibly outnumbered, especially after losing more troops in their counter-charge, so it'd be insane for them to try anything.

The Starfleeters were dead wrong.

* * *

Within the large barracks that housed the Federation troops, a Tholian clad in a grey exosuit fizzed silently into existence. She looked both ways down the corridor immediately, but it seemed that her transport hadn't been detected. Excellent. Tholian transporter technology was somewhat more advanced than the Federation's, and tonight, it was giving the besieged Tholians a critical advantage.

Only four other Tholians had been able to beam in, unfortunately. The gap in the Federation sensor coverage had been too short to accommodate anyone else. Still, it would be enough. Drawing her knife from its sheath on her back, the commando, Juzene, stealthily made her way down the corridor towards her target. The barracks were silent, thankfully so, and so when a half-awake human turned a corner, Juzene heard him coming. Drawing on her training, she leapt up onto the ceiling, holding tight to the dull silver metal with her exosuit's magnetic pads as she waited.

The human passed down below and Juzene dropped down him, cutting his throat in a smooth motion before mercifully stabbing the man in the heart, killing him in seconds and preventing what would've been a lengthy and painful death. It was the work of a moment to wrap the body in a cocoon and stick it to the ceiling, safely out of easy view. Still, Juzene resented the delay. The mission, desperate and ill-conceived as it was, couldn't afford any mishaps.

She soon reached her designated door. The alien writing on it was indecipherable, but she had to trust that the briefing was correct on her target locations. A silent magnetic charge was sufficient to disengage the locking mechanism, and maintaining complete stealth, Juzrene glided into the room on her four legs.

It was a cramped little room, in keeping with a temporary structure. The bed dominated a large part of the room, a strange thing to Juzrene's mind given how comfortable the ceiling looked, especially in the pleasant darkness. Still, it meant that the human woman in the bed was easy prey. With two swift flashes of Juzrene's jagged black knife, the human was dead before she even had a chance to wake up.

Juzrene didn't bother disposing of the body this time, following her training. Instead she simply left the room and moved on to the next, overriding the door lock with the same ease. However, this time when she entered, Juzrene realised that the human within was not in bed, as planned, and worse, the room was lit. Instead, he appeared to be standing up, his upper torso bared, his eyes open in surprise.

Juzrene dived at him swiftly but the human was impossibly quick, ducking under her slashing knife. An iron grip seized upon Juzrene's knife-arm and in the claustrophobic room, the two wrestled for control, Juzrene hissing and the human grunting with effort. The deadly contest rolled on; Juzrene managed to jab the human's side repeatedly with her pointed leg, but he somehow managed to take advantage by seizing her knife-arm in a lock and rolling her onto her back.

The sudden burst of agony was horrendous as the human wrenched with his entire body, cracking Juzrene's crystalline lattice, and she screeched in pain. She managed to jab the human's side again with her leg, forcing him to release her with a gasp of pain, but the human was relentless. He immediately rolled onto Juzrene, sitting upon her carapace inbetween her two pairs of legs and grabbed her knife-arm with his left hand, overwhelming her with sheer brute strength. With that, he rained down blows upon her head with his free hand and Juzrene screeched in pain again. Her exosuit, designed for stealth rather than combat, offered no protection against the attack, and she screamed at the brutality of the punches as she lay pinned beneath the human.

Desperate, her eyes beginning to lose clarity at the hammer blows to her head, she managed to angle her trapped knife-arm back towards her own body and she finally landed a blow of her own. The knife caught the human's fist in a punch, slicing the skin with a massive gash, but Juzrene watched in disbelief as the hand didn't bleed at all. Worse of all, the human didn't seem fazed in the slightest. He took advantage of her shock to force the knife from Juzrene's claw and, without hesitation, rammed the black blade directly into her arm.

Juzrene screamed at the sudden searing pain, but the human still didn't stop. He stabbed her again in her other arm, then again in one leg, and then another, leaving Juzrene a quivering and whimpering husk. Her exosuit automatically compensated for the breaches, but the pain was so immense that she scarcely noticed. Indeed, she barely noticed the blade point aimed directly at her head.

"Surrender," the human demanded coldly. Half-conscious, Juzrene could only sputter her frantic agreement as the human finally got off her and moved to the door. During their fight, alarms had begun blaring throughout the base as red lights blinked on. "CIC, this is Griffin. I have neutralised one Tholian in my quarters and have her in custody. Send security and medical when possible."

With that, the human pulled upon a drawer above his bed and withdrew a phaser pistol while Juzrene shuddered in agony on the floor. The human considered his injured hand, with a large flap of skin hanging off the back, and he shrugged. He used Juzrene's knife to cut off the skin, revealing the silvery steel beneath it of his prosthetic hand before considering his prisoner. The man didn't seem fazed in the slightest at her suffering, instead just watching her coldly as they waited for medics.

In the end, none of the five Tholian commandos were able to extract back to their base. Indeed, only two of them survived their attack. Nevertheless, with ten enemy senior officers killed by their hand, the reward was most certainly worth the expense.


	5. Chapter 5

**WARNING: **This chapter, as well those that follow it, include graphic and detailed descriptions of violence. Read at your own discretion.

* * *

The next morning, a pervasive tension filled the cramped command center. It was, as everybody had noticed, much less cramped than before. Where once there had been fourteen senior officers crammed in around the central table, now there were only five, all with room to spare. Even then one of those five, Commander Soo-Lung, had beamed down from the _Stargazer_ to fill a much needed slot. He had no ground combat experience whatsoever, but even so, the Starfleeters were suddenly in desperate need of qualified senior officers. Soo-Lung had been deeply apprehensive after watching the slaughter field from orbit, but nevertheless, he followed orders.

The planning for the next battle went on for three long, gruelling hours. There was no joking this time, no amicable banter. Small disputes over tactics were conducted professionally and without irritation until Captain Eccles made a decision one way or another. Battle plans were considered and discarded before a fresh one was brought up on the table's holographic display. Eventually, with the last of the details hammered out, Captain Eccles curtly dismissed everyone without any parting words..

Nobody said it openly. In the barracks and in the trench, none of the troops dared to do more than whisper it. Nevertheless, the silent promise on the Federation side was unquestionable.

Today, it was the Tholians' turn to die.

For the second assault on the Tholian base, there were no speeches or fancy motivational tricks. Everyone was nervous in one way or another, of course, and it showed in numerous ways. A handful of troops, unable to face going out to fight, were diagnosed with nervous breakdowns and beamed back to their ships. Others, full of fury and hate-filled invective, were firmly ordered to stay behind with the reserves in the trench. A half dozen more, all survivors of the initial attack, inspired amazement by volunteering to go out again.

With typical timing, at noon, rain clouds gathered high above and a downpour began, chilling the bones of everyone in the trench. Within an hour, the bottom of the trench had become to grow muddy, inciting curses Far too late, simple metal roofing was erected over the trench, while beyond, the Starfleeters at least had the comfort of seeing that the battlefield itself was dry. The Tholian energy shield was deflecting all of the rain away.

Then the moment came. Simultaneously two hundred grey-clothed individuals began to climb up the ladders and clumped up behind the fresh silver-grey barricades that had been erected overnight. They passed underneath the shield perimeter and, appropriately enough, were bathed in the faint orange glow of the Tholian shield as the rain struck it. The ethereal orange hue added to the far-off thundering of rain upon the energy dome high above giving the canyon a surreal atmosphere.

Eventually, the Tholians, dug in outside and just within their base, started firing. This time, however, their searing orange beams had much less effect. The new barricades moved slower but were both larger and more curved, providing more protection to the Federation troops as they advanced. Even more, they now had supporting fire from their own side. The Federation assault line had deliberate holes in it, permitting Federation shooters in the trench to lather the Tholian lines with bright blue phaser fire.

There were no mines this time, the last of the minefield having been defused remotely by the engineers. The Tholians, crouched behind make-shift walls erected outside their base, hurled grenades at the enemy, scoring some success, but there were just far too many Starfleet troops to make a serious dent. Humans, Andorians, Tellarites, Rigellians and other species were represented in the grim assault wave it marched on. After fifteen minutes of relentless marching, the Federation line was only twenty meters away and showing no sign of slowing down.

At the very center of the line, directly behind one of the massive barricades, Captain Eccles urged everyone on, joking and teasing with nearby troops even as the battle raged. Desperate, the Tholians resorted to their heavy weapons, and great explosions rippled along the Federation line. The battered barricades collapsed, broke and were vaporised, killing dozens behind them, but then only seconds later, there were yet more shouted orders all along the line. Burning red orbs erupted from the Federation trench, all the way down the battlefield and then into the Tholian wall, blasting huge holes in it.

Then, as one, the Federation troops surged out and ran at the Tholian wall, with Captain Eccles leading the charge. The Tholians fired back in sheer desperation, their weapons cutting down their attackers by the droves, but there were just far, far too many to kill. The crystal spiders were swamped in a furious ocean of life that poured into the holes and overwhelmed them, killing the Tholians in a scant couple of minutes of frenetic violence. In what seemed like no time at all, the exterior of the Tholian base was secure and the canyon was taken. The Starfleet troops milled about, suddenly aimless, full of exhilaration and adrenaline as they began to cool down from the killing.

A few minutes later, fresh troops marched across the battlefield towards the Tholian base, led by Lieutenant Griffin. Medics and doctors poured over the wounded, while here and there, some people knelt or sat beside their wounded friends, consoling them as help arrived. Others openly grieved beside dead bodies of their friends and shipmates, desolate.

The battle was won.

* * *

Twenty minutes after the fighting had ended, Ensign Muhammad Qasir anxiously climbed the ladder, one hand after another, until he reached the lip and clambered up out of the trench. It was still a nerve-wracking experience, even knowing that the canyon was fairly safe now that they'd taken the other side of the battlefield. Once over the top, the Ensign duly unslung his rifle and waited for his boss to follow.

That person, Lieutenant Griffin, climbed the ladder far more quickly than Muhammed had, and he eyed the young man with an icy look. "You're clear on your assignment, Ensign?" he asked as he began the long walk through the canyon, his rifle held at the ready.

"Yes sir," Muhammed said quickly, moving alongside his boss. Muhammed was actually a few centimeters taller than Griffin but even so he found himself having to walk quickly to keep up. "My objective is to keep Captain Eccles alive at all costs."

"The Captain won't like it," Griffin said curtly. He looked up at the tall canyon walls with a frown as they walked over the flat rocky terrain. "He's stubborn and he'll try to put himself in danger anyway. Any command-level officer worth their salt won't flinch from danger, but that makes your job all the harder. I assume that you saw the captain's actions during the attack?"

Muhammed nodded. They were starting to walk past the bodies now, with the graveyard detail only just starting to go about their grim work of collecting the dead, and the Ensign gagged before he got himself under control. "Urgh...yes, sir. He led the charge from the front, to inspire everyone else. Isn't that what he's supposed to do?"

Griffin snorted in derision, and Muhammed retched as they passed by a particularly gruesome mess of blood and gore. Griffin glanced back at the ensign without comment, but he did at least stop as Muhammed doubled over, retching loudly and painfully.

"Keep your eyes on me, Ensign," Griffin ordered. "Breathe. Just breathe. Focus on me, boy." Waiting for Muhammed to do just that, he continued, "Yes, it was. Regardless, it's your job to minimise the risk as much as possible. If that means arguing with him, then you argue right up until the Captain makes it an order. Most of the time, however, it won't come to that. He'll appreciate your logic. Now, feeling better?"

His breathing slowing, Muhammed nodded, standing up straight. "Y-yes sir. Thank you, sir." With that Griffin headed off again and he moved to catch up. "Didn't the Captain have a bodyguard already, sir?"

"Yes," Griffin replied. The older man looked around the carnage, at the blast craters, bodies and blood with an indecipherable look. "She was injured while leading the first assault and Captain Eccles didn't want a replacement. Captain Schmidt has ordered his protection, however, and her authority supersedes his at present."

"Yes sir," Muhammed said. The two men lapsed into silence for the rest of the walk up until they eventually reached the Tholian base, where the exterior was full of people in grey fatigues going about their work. Some went about the dull task of collecting Tholian weapons from the dead bodies, others scanned the black Tholian base with bulky tricorders and yet more began setting up first-aid stations, waste bins and tents. Muhammed didn't see Captain Eccles at first, but Griffin apparently did, making a beeline for the man as he near the center of line, just in front of the Tholian base itself.

"Lieutenant," Eccles greeted Griffin with a polite nod. "I will give you due credit. Your battle plan worked far better than I thought. Congratulations. Is there any word from the rest of the Tholians inside this base?"

Griffin shook his head while Muhammed simply stood behind him. "Colonel Xalcrene sent a transmission to the ships in orbit, sir. He made it clear that he will not surrender and that any assault on the base interior would be futile."

Eccles sighed, rubbing his brow. He glanced at the corpse of a nearby Tholian soldier which lay on its side, looking oddly sad with its four legs curled inward. The faceplate was clear, and through it, the three humans could see that the once orange organic crystal had faded to grey in death. The air stank of ozone and a sickly sweet smell, and when Muhammed realised that the Tholian corpses was the source of the stench, Muhammed wretched again.

Eccles watched him sympathetically. "I take it that you're the bodyguard that Agatha foisted on me. Take it easy, son, you'll get used to the smell in a minute. What's your name, Ensign?"

It took a moment for Muhammed to respond with his stomach contracting painfully, but finally he did, standing up straight. His eyes watered, burning, but he forced himself to ignore it. "Ensign Muhammad Qasir, sir."

Eccles smiled sadly. "You aren't one of my crew. Do you have the distinction of serving under Mister Griffin on the _Churchill_?"

Muhammed shook his head. "No, sir. The _Stargazer_."

"Ah, one of Agatha's," Eccles said warmly. He stepped up and grasped Muhammed's shoulder. "I assume that Lieutenant Griffin here has given you the speech about how I'm reckless, and you have the impossible job of keeping my stupid rear safe from harm?" Muhammed stared, not knowing what to say, and Eccles laughed. "Relax, son. I'll try to make life easy on you."

The Captain then looked to Griffin, adopting a more serious tone. "I didn't seriously expect the Tholians to surrender, but even so, that means many more casualties are coming. Prepare to put your follow-up assault plan into motion, Lieutenant. I believe that it's safe to transport down our combat EVA gear and the other equipment, so get that done as soon as you can. Spread the suits out in as many places as possible, just in case the Tholians try another raid. They have to know that those combat EVA suits are our weakness. If they're destroyed, we have no way of fighting them in there."

Griffin nodded. "Aye sir, I will get on it immediately. Do you have an idea on which troops we should use?"

"Volunteers," Eccles said, shaking his head. "It's the only way. I'll talk to everyone in a few hours." He turned around, considering the black metal of the Tholian base. The entire structure seemed to be merged with the mountain, as if it extended deeper inside the rock, and Eccles looked up at the tall peak high above. It still rained outside the energy shield, casting the same orange hue over the canyon as the rain thundered on the shield, and Eccles seemed almost wistful.

"Lieutenant, Eccles continued with a business-like tone, "I want you to beam back up to the _Churchill_ and talk to Captain Copeland. He has a talent for thinking outside the box and I want his perspective on this. Requisition whatever other combat equipment that may be needed for the assault from the task force as well." Muhammed began to zone out of the conversation at that point, looking around them, but he forced himself to keep listening to the boring (but necessary) details. "While you do that, I'll talk to the Menelax government. Some of them know-"

_Zssst._

Muhammed whipped around at the loud sound just in time to see a thick orange beam vaporise most of Captain Eccles' head, leaving his body to fall lifelessly to the ground. "SNIPER!" Muhammed screamed as he seized Griffin's fatigues and threw the man to the ground, just as a blazing fire consumed Muhammed's right arm. He screamed at the pain as he collapsed to the floor.

The sound of phaser fire consumed the air, and Muhammed saw thin blue beams flying over his head. The pain from his arm was agonising, overwhelming, and he just lay there, stunned.

"Maximum setting!" he heard a voice roar from nearby, and then there was an almighty explosion from somewhere. Muhammed winced at the overpowering smell of burning and he curled onto his side, fear consuming everything.

"Tricorder scan, now!" the deep voice shouted again. "Hail the _Churchill_! Continuous scans on the canyon walls NOW! Move, move move!'

Muhammed could barely make sense of what was going on, the sound of footsteps and crashing rocks, shouting and chaos. He just lay there, his nose on the hard rock, panting, waiting for it all to be over.

"Qasir!" the voice barked, and he suddenly felt strong hands forcing him onto his back. Muhammed winced, his breath stuttery and uneven, and when he opened his eyes again, he saw Lieutenant Griffin crouched over him. "You'll be alright, Ensign, you'll be alright."

"Y-yes s-s-sir," Muhammed stammered. He reached round with his shaking left arm and, feeling nothing, closed his eyes again. "S-sir...my arm…"

Griffin was silent long enough that Muhammed opened his eyes. "It's gone, Qasir. I'm sorry."

Muhammed didn't say anything else. He just lay there, tears streaming down his cheeks as he looked to his right. His shoulder was gone, burned out of existence, while next to him lay what was left of his arm, most of it vaporised, leaving only part of the forearm and a hand. Muhammed didn't look away for a long while.


	6. Chapter 6

The Bridge of the USS _Stargazer_ was one of the most modern in the fleet. It was clean and high-tech, full of bright colours and happily beeping touch-screen consoles. The officers were similarly prim and proper, all wearing smart-looking uniforms. The red jackets and black trousers looked good, as did the people who wore them. Captain Schmidt, seated in her chair at the center of the Bridge, was no different. With her flowing blonde hair, athletic figure and easy smile, she looked like a recruitment poster come to life.

Thus, when Lieutenant Griffin stepped out of the turbolift, he drew looks of shock. His grey fatigues were filthy, splattered with dirt, dust and blood, and he had a small cut over his left eye that looked as if it had only just stopped bleeding. His beard and hair were unkempt, while the white chevron and two white dots on his left breast were barely visible amidst the mixed red and brown that stained the shirt. The phaser at the lieutenant's hip only added to the man's shocking look as he stepped down to the command pit, facing Captain Schmidt and coming to attention.

"Lieutenant Griffin reporting as ordered, sir," he said stiffly.

Schmidt looked him over with a wince before standing up. "At ease, Lieutenant," she said kindly, smiling in sympathy. "My ready room, please, Lieutenant Shane, you have the Bridge."

With that Griffin turned and walked to the ready room, followed by Schmidt. The doors closed behind her and as Griffin stood in front of the desk, she moved around it to sit in her chair.

"Sit down, Lieutenant," she said softly, her German accent barely noticeable. Griffin hesitated before complying, and indeed, he looked far more uncomfortable sitting down than he had while standing. "I was sorry to hear about Captain Eccles. He was a great man."

Griffin didn't react, although his blue eyes did flick to meet Schmidt's. "Yes sir."

"How are your own injuries?" Schmidt asked with a sympathetic smile, gesturing at the cut over his eye. Griffin merely frowned.

"Minor, sir," he said simply, plainly hesitant to say more. Then he forced some more words out. "Captain, before anyone forgets, I hereby recommend that Ensign Muhammad Qasir be recognised for his gallantry. He reacted extremely quickly to incoming fire and saved my life, suffering a very serious injury while doing so."

Schmidt nodded solemnly. "I'll make it happen, Lieutenant. In the meantime, you need to get some rest. To be frank, you look awful."

Griffin just stared in such open disbelief that Schmidt frowned, "Captain, respectfully, there's still work to do."

"The Tholian base, you mean?" Schmidt said cautiously. "Commander Soo-Lung is working on it, Lieutenant. In the meantime, you have the opportunity to clean yourself up, get something to eat and get some sleep. You're of no use to anyone like this, and Commander Soo-Lung will need you at your best."

At that, Griffin sighed, briefly looking away. Schmidt considered the man closely, wondering just what was going through his mind. She could only imagine the kind of things he'd just been through…the things he'd seen...

"Captain, permission to speak freely?" Griffin said abruptly, his tone stern. At Schmidt's consenting nod, he ploughed on ruthlessly, his voice intense. "Sir, with all due respect to Commander Soo-Lung, he isn't a combat officer. He isn't familiar with the battle plan, the composition of our forces, the Tholians, close quarters combat or the tactics that will be required to win."

Schmidt sat back, steepling her hands under her chin as she considered the lieutenant. "And I presume that you believe that you should command our ground forces, Lieutenant? Even though Commander Soo-Lung is two ranks senior to you and has several years more experience?"

Griffin didn't hesitate. "Yes sir," he said firmly, and Schmidt flinched at the uncaring cold confidence that he exuded. "Anyone else who was more qualified is either dead or too badly injured to command. That leaves me, sir. This assault is going to be risky and costly as it is, but if Commander Soo-Lung commands it, then we will fail the mission and have a lot more dead."

His words bordered on insubordination, and Schmidt bristled in instinctive defence of her friend. She glared at Griffin, fighting down her own indignation and disgust. It took an immense effort to remind herself that the man was merely doing his job and was, after all, right. He certainly was thinking about the welfare of everybody down on the planet rather than about some insane grasp for glory.

_Probably_.

"Very well, Lieutenant," Schmidt said reluctantly. "I have not yet ordered that assault, but in any case, you will need to hear this. Ten minutes ago, I received a report from our teams that have been scanning the Tholian base." Griffin perked up at that, paying close attention. "They have discerned the layout of the facility, and it appears to be considerably smaller than we first expected. There are only forty two Tholian lifesigns inside."

Griffin nodded. "That fits their tactical behaviour, sir," he said. "They are heavily outnumbered and lightly armed. The heavy weapons they used to disrupt our second assault were small, and even then, we found very few of them among those troops. The Tholians clearly didn't expect a pitched ground battle or they would have brought more troops and more weapons."

Schmidt frowned in confusion. "But from what I've been told, the troops inside that base are some of the most capable soldiers in the known galaxy. Is that not correct?"

"Yes, Captain," Griffin said. "The Rachnil Brigade are a special forces unit within the Tholian military. They are considered to be far more efficient and better trained than any Federation ground forces. Even the Klingons treat them with respect." He paused to rub his eye. "Their primary value in this instance is not their training or skill, but their loyalty and steadfast devotion to duty. When given an order, they follow it without question or hesitation where another Tholian unit might not."

"I was afraid of that," Schmidt said with a sigh. "The sensor teams found something else, Lieutenant. They needed a great deal of equipment right at the base's walls, but they broke through the Tholian sensor jamming. The terraforming device exists. It is using protomatter and it is nearly finished. If activated, the device will terraform this entire planet in a matter of months, and there is nothing that we could do to stop or reverse it. Given the limitations of shipping near Menelax, even with ideal circumstances, we wouldn't be evacuate any more than four million people offworld before conditions become inhospitable."

"Leaving five million people to die," Griffin finished slowly, plainly absorbing the magnitude of the statement. He was silent for a moment, looking out the large window to Schmidt's left. The blue-green expanse of the planet rolled slowly below, the full majesty of the world open to witness. "Do we have a timeline on how long it will take to complete the device, sir?"

Schmidt hesitated. "The technology is too alien to know with any certainty. It has some similarities to the Genesis Device, but there are aspects to its construction that we don't understand, particularly how the protomatter is being manipulated by the control matrix." Realising that she was equivocating, Schmidt simply forced herself to say it. "Anywhere between a few hours and a few weeks."

Griffin didn't react in the slightest. "And the _Excelsior_'s task force won't arrive for another week."

"Five days," Schmidt corrected gently. "They're pushing their warp drives as much as they dare. The _Hood_ and _Hathaway_ are eleven days away. Admiral Penik is on the _Enterprise_, assembling another fleet at Starbase 88 in case the Tholians make this a full blown war, but they won't arrive for another three weeks."

Still Griffin didn't react. He just sat there, his expression indecipherable, although Schmidt could see the calculations going on behind those ice-blue eyes. She recognised the thought process, given she had been considering the same dilemma for the past two days. It wasn't a decision to be envied.

Then Griffin looked at her. His determination was deeply unsettling. "With your permission, Captain, I am prepared to assault the Tholian base at the earliest opportunity. I will need to re-examine the assault plan and the sensor scans, but I expect to be able to attack in approximately six hours."

At that, Schmidt stood up, taking a breath. She walked around her desk, looking down at Griffin where he sat. For the first time, she fixed the man with her own intense glare, looking very much like the veteran captain that she was. "Lieutenant, I am prepared to give the order if, and only if, you feel that there is a serious chance that you can accomplish the mission. If it cannot be realistically done, then I am not prepared to sacrifice eighty four people just for a gesture. We will wait for the Andorian Marines, and they will finish this with far less casualties."

Griffin at least had the good sense to consider it, but even so, his confidence was unshakeable as he looked up at her. "Yes, Captain, we can do it. It will be ugly. We will sustain heavy casualties and we must utilise distasteful tactics to achieve victory, but we can do it. Moreover, given the five million people who will die if we fail, I believe that we _must _do it. Captain Eccles was making preparations to begin the assault when he was killed."

Schmidt held her hands behind her back, clenching them as she bit her lip. "Captain Eccles was making contingency plans, Lieutenant. We have no indication that the Tholians will press the button, Lieutenant. It would be an unfathomable crime that doesn't match what we know about them."

Griffin still didn't relent, scowling as he leaned forward. "Captain, all of the Tholians' tactics thus far have been psychological, aimed at delaying and discouraging us. They know full well that they don't have the forces on hand to stop our assault if we fully commit to it, so they have tried to frighten and intimidate us to the point that we hesitate. They are buying time."

"You're _certain_," Schmidt pressed, her glare intensifying as even as her gut squirmed. "Any assault in that base, in their atmosphere and on their own terms, will be a bloodbath. You're _certain_ that you can do it?"

"Yes. Sir." Griffin's words were firmly enunciated, his irritation and determination undeniable. Schmidt seethed, hating the man at that moment, and hating what he was making her do.

_Damn you_.

"Then the order is given, Lieutenant," Schmidt said quietly. "Take that base and dismantle the terraforming device at all costs. Dismissed."

Griffin stood up promptly and turned to leave, but before he did, he glanced down at his chair and said "Sorry about the mess, sir."

As he left, Schmidt stared at the chair. It was stained with dirt and blood from where Griffin had sat, and for the first time, it occurred to her that the blood had to have come from young Ensign Qasir. Schmidt had known the eager young man, had admired his puppy-like enthusiasm and gentle compassion for his shipmates. Some of the other blood might have come from Captain Eccles, Schmidt's friend, a brilliant starship captain and a wonderful man. He left behind a wife and three children.

All because of Lieutenant Cailus Griffin's plan, throwing good men and women into war like cattle to the slaughter.

"Butcher," Schmidt whispered in disgusted disdain.

* * *

An hour later, back down in the canyon, Lieutenant Griffin stood before a large mass of people. He was still in his battle-stained fatigues, much like many of the troops on the battlefield, presenting an impressive figure with his hands behind his back and the phaser pistol on his hip. The dead and the injured had been cleared away, but the detritus of battle remained, littering the canyon with metal debris, craters and charred rock. The rain had only intensified, still casting an orange hue through the energy shield that was projected within the base.

More than two hundred and fifty men and women stood there, with another fifty watching from outside the canyon. Many crewmen and officers from the orbiting ships watched through cameras as well, but they didn't matter. This wasn't for them.

"I'll be very clear to you all," Lieutenant Griffin shouted, his loud bass voice carrying easily through the crowd. "The rumours are true. A terraforming device has been detected in that base behind me." For emphasis, Griffin pointed a thumb back over his shoulder at the featureless black wall behind him. "If it is activated, it will transform this planet forever. Millions will die. The only thing standing in those monsters' way is us."

Griffin paused deliberately. "In four hours, I am going into that base and I will fight to stop them. I need eighty three volunteers to fight with me. Anyone who is prepared to do should report to the armory by 2200 to be fitted with a combat EVA suit. However, be clear about this. If you go in there, there is an excellent chance that you will die. It will be extremely painful. Do not volunteer unless you understand and accept this possibility."

Again he paused, and the crowd looked at each other. A hundred quiet conversations broke out before Griffin's loud voice echoed out again, silencing them. "Five million people depend on our actions today. Make your choice and make it honestly. Dismissed."

By 2200, out of three hundred and sixteen troops, two hundred and eighty one people turned up at the armory and volunteered. It was a statistic that would be repeated for years to come across the galaxy, from Earth to Qo'nos to Romulus and beyond. Eighty three of the volunteers were selected, armoured up and then sent to the outside of the base.

Within the Tholian base, forty four soldiers went about their grim business. They gathered their weapons, prepared their defences, dismantled their cocoons, spun their webs and made their plans.

The stage was set.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** This chapter contains excessive and descriptive violence. Read at your own discretion. Also, this bugger is very long, so...er...also read at your own discretion. Bring a drink.

* * *

There was no avoiding it: Lieutenant (junior grade) Mhezzu th'Khessi was more anxious now than he had ever been. Sitting in the armory, clad in the full combat EVA suit save for his helmet, the Andorian was fighting the renewed urge to throw up. His stomach was an unsettled mess, thrown off all the more because of the bloody battle that he had fought only twelve hours ago and the excessive throwing up that had preceded that. Mhezzu half wondered whether he had time to strip off the CEVAS gear, escape to the toilet and get back in time.

"Lieutenant?" Mhezzu winced at the sound of a woman's voice. There went his hopes of relieving his bowels and stomach one last time. He turned to see a young woman standing at the armory entrance, clad in her own CEVAS gear. The armour looked comically large on her small frame, especially with the large phaser rifle that hung from a strap on her chest and the helmet in her arms. What Mhezzu focused on, however, was the look in her eyes.

She wasn't just anxious. The girl was petrified.

"Crewman...Habib?" he said, just barely remembering her name in time. The _Churchill _was a large ship, and it wasn't always easy to remember everyone. "What are you doing here? The assault unit is forming up in twenty minutes."

"Oh, yes, I know," Habib said quickly. Too quickly. Her eyes darted around the armory and the many empty racks and boxes. "I was...um...I was just getting an equipment check."

Mhezzu winced as his stomach quaked again, and he rubbed his forehead wearily. This was the last thing he needed today, of all days. Still, however ill with dread he might be, she was clearly in worse shape.

"Crewman," he said gently, "come here. Sit with me."

Habib bit her lip, prevaricating, before finally obeying the order, settling her large bulk onto the bench. "Sir?" she asked hopefully, plainly praying that she hadn't been caught.

"The only reason to come back here is to take that suit off," Mhezzu said. He could almost literally see Habib's hope die in an instant. "Right?"

Habib gulped, her eyes darting everywhere. "Um...sir, I don't know what you're talking about." She reached a shaking hand up to her black hair, placing a rogue strand back behind her ear. The ponytail looked somewhat rough; she must've only just done it to fit in the helmet.

Mhezzu chuckled. "Come on, kid. You're caught. You might as well be honest now."

Habib nodded jerkily, staying silent for a moment as she worked up the courage. "I...um...I'm just a little, you know...um…"

"Scared out of your mind?" Mhezzu finished for her, grinning, his antenna twerking back and forth in amusement. "Me too. This isn't even my first fight. Andorian, yes? We're a warrior people at heart, but I still feel like this every time."

"Really?" Habib said with a nervous smile. She giggled, wiping her eyes. "I don't...I don't even know. We're going to go into this bunker, but there are monsters and-and killers! I'm not a killer, I'm not even a soldier. On Earth, the place where I'm from? It's a place of peace. Syria has not seen fighting in over two hundred years. I'm not...I'm not ready for this!"

"But you volunteered for this, yes?" Mhezzu reminded her.

"Yes!" Habib said firmly, bobbing her head. "The Tholians could kill millions of people if we do not disable the device. I know something of protomatter, and I can do it, but...but going in there…in the dark..."

The woman was shaking, literally shaking. Mhezzu was about to extend an arm around the young human when an iron voice rang out: "Lieutenant th'Khessi, are you...what is this?"

Startled, Mhezzu shot up to his feet and turned to the door. Sure enough, Lieutenant Griffin was standing there, also armoured up, his helmet carried under one arm. "Sir! I was just doing an equipment check with Crewman Habib."

"Hm," Griffin said suspiciously. Mhezzu saw the man's far too perceptive eyes read the scene, and he privately cursed. Griffin was a brutal and ruthless taskmaster, but he was also very sharp. If he realised why Habib had really come back here…

"Crewman Habib," Griffin said sternly, and the young engineer stood up as well, although facing Griffin was clearly the last thing that she wanted to do. Mhezzu winced as she kept on shaking under the man's piercing glare; damn it, damn it, damn it! He'd throw her in the brig for dereliction of duty! Still Griffin stayed silent for a moment, considering Habib, who looked rather like she was facing a firing squad.

"I want you in the reserve platoon, Habib," the man said finally. Habib's jaw dropped; the firing squad had been postponed. "I could use an extra engineer in the reserve platoon, and you're it. Lieutenant th'Khessi, our latest scans show that the west wing has minimal technology, so your two other engineers will suffice without the crewman."

"Yes sir." Mhezzu glanced at Habib. The young woman seemed calmer now; she would be in a safer position, with the reserves. Her breathing was deeper but slowing as she fought to regain her composure. "You heard the lieutenant, crewman. Report to the assault unit at the bunker exterior. Lieutenant McGloughlin is commanding the reserves."

Habib nodded. "Yes sir," she said, scooping up her helmet and walking (slightly too quickly) out of the armory. Mhezzu watched her go, fervently hoping that his own stomach could regain its composure like she seemed to.

"That was good of you, sir," he said into the sudden silence left by Habib's departure.

Griffin snorted. "Like hell. She's a nervous wreck. If she makes a mistake, I want her where I can mitigate that mistake. We certainly don't have time for another engineer to beam down and put on her gear. Now, let's get this over with."

* * *

A few minutes later, everyone was gathered outside the black featureless wall of the Tholian fortification. Night had fallen, so the Starfleet engineers had erected large spotlights to illuminate the canyon and the fortress itself. The mood was somber and the evening was quiet as the various EVA-suited troops assembled into six lines facing the fortress, all clutching phaser rifles and other weapons. The others, clad in normal fatigues and uniforms and not going in to the Tholian fort, looked on with trepidation. Three large silver arches were set against the wall of the fortress, the engineers waiting for the order to breach that would begin the assault.

The time came. Lieutenant Griffin walked up in front of the troops, his helmet still held under one arm. While not a tall man, it seemed as if he'd been born to wear the bulky black armour. The severity of the man's face, the cold way he looked out at everyone, was almost supernatural; illuminated by spotlights that made the armour glisten, heavily armed with a phaser rifle and sidearm, clearly ready to kill.

At the head of the first line, Lieutenant Mhezzu th'Khessi was glad he was wearing his helmet. He'd worked for Griffin on the _Churchill _for eight months, but never had he seen his boss like this, and it was downright frightening. Right here, the man didn't seem human. He just looked supremely, horrendously dangerous to everyone and everything around him.

"You all know the mission," Griffin barked, his deep voice carrying easily across the battlefield. "You've all been briefed. You all know the stakes. Millions of lives rest on this, so let's get it right." He paused, looked around at everyone, his eyes fixing on each person in turn. "One last time: our objective is the Genesis device. If you find anything that could be it, do not touch it. Report it, hold your position, and wait for an engineer to verify it. If that device is activated, it will begin a process that we cannot stop and this planet will die."

That grim reminder rippled through the eighty three troops, many of whom shifted uneasily. "The Tholian base has three main corridors running through it, so we'll attack all three at once. As stun phasers are unreliable against Tholians, all phasers are set to kill. Do not hesitate to fire, as I promise you, the Tholians will not hesitate. Trust your team, trust your shipmates and trust your training. Beyond everything, remember this: we are the hunters. We are on the attack, digging these bugs out of the grave that they've so politely dug for themselves. They are afraid, and they should be, because we are going to end this war here, today."

Again, Griffin paused, allowing the words to sink in. Mhezzu glanced around at his platoon, and while he couldn't see their faces through their faceplates, he could see how they stood. Some were strong. Many were uneasy, though, uncertain, looking around at their fellows just like he was as Griffin spoke.

"I know that none of you signed up to be soldiers," Griffin continued, his tone harsh. "You signed up to be explorers, to see the stars and keep the peace. That's who we are, and who we will be again. For today, though, for right now, we're soldiers. Now let's end this damned war and save this planet!"

There was no answer from the troops, but apparently Griffin wasn't expecting one. He simply put on his helmet, hefted a rifle and moved to the left breach point, where Mhezzu's platoon would be moving in. Mhezzu and the other platoon lieutenants moved to the breach points too, their people following silently, each left alone with their thoughts in the privacy of their own helmets.

In position right near the arch, behind two other troops, Mhezzu clutched his rifle, his breathing ragged, sounding loud to his ears. Then, on his faceplate, a light flicked on in one corner next to the words ALL-HANDS, signifying that Griffin was talking to everyone on the suit communications network.

"Engineers: breach on my mark. Three. Two. One. Mark." Mhezzu winced at a loud fizz, the arches lighting up bright red, then came the next order: "Grenades!" Mhezzu watched as the two soldiers on either side of the newly formed hole hurled photon grenades into it before immediately turning away. Loud bangs echoed through the canyon, then came the next order:

"Go go go!"

Yelling through his fear, Mhezzu ran for it, following the man in front of him directly into the hole. He heard weapons fire, saw bright flashes as he ran in and dived madly to the side, ending up rolling onto one knee. Everything was a shade of red and he couldn't see a thing, save for more bright flashes of blue light, and without thinking, Mhezzu snapped his rifle up forward. He glimpsed an outline of something up ahead and pulled the trigger, a blue beam piercing the redness. It missed, or he thought it did, so Mhezzu fired again and again, until he saw the strange silhouette react, jerking backwards. Uncertain, Mhezzu stopped firing. He looked to the side where he saw more outlines, these ones familiar, and blue beams blasting ahead with nothing being returned their way.

Mhezzu fumbled with the buttons on his arm, and the word PLATOON flashed on his faceplate. "Cease fire, cease fire!" he barked, and the blue beams stopped. Still, though, they couldn't see anything. Mhezzu hesitated. How could they move on if they couldn't see?

Then ALL-HANDS flashed. "Everyone, tell your suit computers to adjust the IRP to 45%," said a breathless wonan's voice. Mhezzu recognised it immediately; Crewman Habib, the frightened young engineer he'd comforted earlier. He immediately said the words: "Computer, set the IRP to 45%."

The result was instantaneous: suddenly, they could all _see_. There was still a thick red haze everywhere, but they could at least see through it somewhat. Mhezzu glanced to the side and was horrified to see that he was completely exposed to an open corridor, but there was nothing to worry about. A very, very dead Tholian body lay there, its remaining orange legs curled up against his body like a dead spider, its rifle broken in half.

He glanced back at his platoon to see them moving out cautiously to secure the immediate area. It looked like a computer room of some sort, although Mhezzu was at a loss to say what kind of computers they were. A makeshift barricade had been set up facing the breach, but he saw two of his platoon cautiously move around it.

"Two hostiles dead, sir," one of them reported, his name highlighted on Mhezzu's faceplate as Nebbhiz. "Looks like the grenade and our phasers got them early."

Mhezzu stood, his heart still hammering. He glanced back at the breach and saw two bodies there, this time with Lieutenant Griffin crouched over them, the man easily identifiable by the two gold bands around one arm. He looked up at Mhezzu and shook his head. The first two casualties of the day. There were probably more at the other two breach points.

There was no time to mourn, however. "Shepard, take your team, secure this room and the east exit," he ordered briskly on the PLATOON channel. Mhezzu desperately wanted to check who he'd lost, but he didn't dare, and instead he moved to the other side of the fortress exterior wall, rather than leading deeper inside. The corridor ahead was completely empty save for another dead Tholian body.

This time, Mhezzu decided to lead the way. A polite little notification appeared on his faceplate, and he had to restrain the urge to laugh: _Waste disposal system activated. Urine disposal system activated. Available waste/urine disposal storage: 76%._

"Arnette, your squad is with me. Huang, stay back with Lieutenant Griffin." Mhezzu was astonished how calm his voice sounded. Why wasn't he more afraid? His antennae were tingling madly in his helmet, and his heart was thudding painfully, but he felt fine otherwise. Emboldened, he aimed his rifle down the corridor, waited for Arnette's squad to join him then carefully set out. It was only a few meters before they reached a corner. Mhezzu risked a glance around it and saw nothing.

The ALL-HANDS channel clicked on and Griffin's deep bass voice said "Platoon leaders, report."

"Alpha Platoon, contact with the enemy," Mhezzu responded. He glanced at the others with him, their armour making them utterly impersonal. "Four hostiles dead, two friendlies KIA. Moving on. Found the main corridor on this side, no contact ahead."

"Brava Platoon, contact," said another grim female voice. "Four hostiles dead, five friendlies KIA. Also found our corridor, no contact."

"Charlie Platoon, contact," repeated another voice, this one also female. "Four hostiles dead, three friendlies KIA. Same for us, we have our corridor, nothing there."

"Acknowledged," Griffin said. "Advance."

Advance they did, but it was slow, torturous work. The Tholian base had seemed small enough on a sensor display, but on foot and when every shadow looked like a Tholian, it was nerve-wracking. Four large rooms were connected to the corridor, each requiring a thorough search one at a time. A barracks full of cocoons hanging from the ceiling. Some sort of mess hall, the food replicators fixed from the ceiling rather than the walls. A recreational area of some sort, with what looked like toys, or balls. Mhezzu and his people searched them all. Mhezzu kept his rifle gripped tight in his hands, breathing hard. Sweat poured down his face; even the EVA suits couldn't keep them completely cool, not when they were in temperatures of over 200 degrees centigrade.

The squad chatted, and Mhezzu let them as they moved back to the corridor. A door was up ahead, this one somewhat larger, presumably leading deeper into the facility.

"Hey, if we blew up the wall, how come this place isn't getting colder?" one woman, Crewman Taylor, asked.

"Life support systems," another whispered back over the comm as he followed his squadmate.. "Forcefields and air pressure are keeping the Tholians cosy. We can't-OH SHIT!"

A blue flash sparked and everyone snapped around to him, but there was nothing there except a hole in the ceiling, with the crewman aiming his weapon up at it. "S-sorry boss," he said nervously. "Thought I saw something."

Mhezzu sighed, blinking away the sweat from his eyes. "We're all jumpy, crewman, it's fine." He glanced back down the corridor, where Lieutenant Griffin was following with another squad a good ten meters down. The man was co-ordinating the entire assault, but it was clear that he had noticed the incident. Seeing Mhezzu, he simply responded with a thumbs up. It wasn't particularly expressive, but Mhezzu took the encouragement.

They opened the next door, and indeed, it opened onto another corridor deeper into the base. This one was empty too. Mhezzu clutched his rifle even tighter, his body tensed like a coiled spring. Where the hell were they? The thick red haze was horribly unsettling, and something about the place was playing hell with his antennae. It felt like his entire head was buzzing.

Another room, this time an empty armory with weapon racks set along the walls. Another room, a place full of silk clothing and armour and what had to be bathing facilities. Mhezzu led the way into another room, his rifle sweeping it, this one completely empty save for some lockers. He moved to open one, but then caught some movement out of the corner of his eye.

"CONTACT!" someone yelled, and seeing a Tholian standing in the room as if it had appeared from nowhere, Mhezzu frantically fired his rifle right at it, the blue beam piercing its carapace instantly. Two more beams followed, killing the thing before it had a chance to do anything but scream.

"What the hell?" Crewman Taylor muttered over the SQUAD comm. "Hey boss, do you see a weapon on this one?" Mhezzu's heart seemed to stop as two of his people stepped forward, searching the body. It wasn't even armoured, just clad in blue silks. "No weapons, nothing at all."

An awkward silence followed. "Was it surrendering?" Ensign Arnette said, horrified. Everybody turned to Mhezzu, the man who had fired the first shot. He just stood there, frozen, staring. He didn't. He hadn't. He did. But he wouldn't!

The SQUAD channel flicked on again, but this time the voice was the deep harsh tone of Griffin. "Th'Khessi, report."

"Sir," Mhezzu said hoarsely, his throat dry. He couldn't stop staring at the body, his rifle loose in his hands. "Contact. One hostile dead. I...I think it was surrendering, sir. It was unarmed. Just appeared from nowhere."

"Then it wasn't surrendering," Griffin said coldly. "You don't sneak up on people you're surrendering to. Stay on mission, people. We'll figure out what happened later from the suit cameras, but nobody should worry about consequences or court martials after this is done. We've given the Tholians plenty of chances to surrender and they refused every time. Now get to work."

Mhezzu took a deep breath. He felt physically ill, and he was sure that his suit's waste disposal system was doing its job once more, but there was no time for that. Instead, he gave the orders and the team kept moving. There was no idle chatter now. They just moved back out into the corridor. Mhezzu tried to stay focused, tried not to think about the body. The body of the Tholian who'd died. The Tholian who'd tried to surrendered. The Tholian whom he'd executed in blind panic.

Lost in self-recrimination, Mhezzu missed the trap. He'd probably have missed it anyway, but nevertheless, it happened. The squad was advancing down the corridor toward yet another door in the corridor, all the rooms behind them searched and covered, secure that there weren't any possible threats. Their tricorders couldn't detect Tholian lifesigns, but they could detect phasers within ten meters or so, so the team felt quite safe.

None of them thought to pay much attention to the ceiling.

"HEEEEEE!" Taylor screamed before her comm was suddenly cut off. Everybody turned around to see bright orange spiders around her, a knife spearing her chest, and _more _spiders dropping from the ceiling. Mhezzu and the others fired in panic, but the Tholians dodged the blue beams and rushed them, knives in each claw, slashing. Mhezzu screamed in fear and rage, but then the Tholians were among the squad, and he didn't have a clear line of fire. He saw a knife emerge from Arnette's helmet, the ensign's body becoming slack at the destruction of the brain. Mhezzu finally got a clear shot and fired, dropping a Tholian, but then he saw another of the squad crumple, this time from an _orange_ beam. Screams and pleas filled the SQUAD channel and it was a chaotic melee, confused and insane, knives slashing and phasers firing wildly. Mhezzu saw the door ahead open with Tholians pouring out of it, joining the fight, these ones armed with rifles.

"EVERYBODY RUN!" he shouted over the comm, but Mhezzu himself didn't run, couldn't, he had to hold, to cover them. He fired shots at the door, nearly hitting one of his own people as they wrestled a Tholian, but it was enough to make the other Tholians take cover.

Then more black-armoured troops charged in, and it got even more chaotic, but this time the Starfleeters had the numbers. Mhezzu stared as he saw Griffin leading the charge, dodging the return fire of a Tholian shooter and diving into the thick of fighting, followed by a half dozen others. Mhezzu followed, jammed his weapon up against a Tholian's carapace as it stabbed one of his squad and fired, killing it, then was smashed towards the floor himself by something unseen. He rolled onto his back, scrambling for his weapon only to see a Tholian with a knife over him.

Then a black-armoured figure crashed into it. The figure, which Mhezzu belatedly recognised again as Griffin, smashed a fist into the Tholian's head, pulled a knife from his belt and stabbed the creature in the head, all in one rapid motion. Without pausing Griffin turned and slapped away a Tholian phaser before it could shoot him, rushing forward to stab the creature. Another tried to attack Griffin amidst all the chaos of the melee, this time securing more success, forcing the human back towards Mhezzu. As Starfleeters and Tholians fought around them, Griffin and his opponent eyed each other warily, the Tholian screeching, the orange eyes burning in its crystalline head.

Then, still lying on the floor Mhezzu regained his senses. He rushed to pull the phaser from his holster, aimed it at the Tholian and fired, the blue beam disintegrating its head. He hurried to aim his weapon at other Tholians, only to find that there were none. There were none left; orange spider-like bodies littered the floor, their arms and four legs curled up to their bodies in death.

There were just as many black-armoured bodies, though. No. There were more Starfleet bodies. Many more. Mhezzu stood up, horrified as he looked at the carnage around him, counting. Five...Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven? No, that one was in half...Ten. Two there, that made twelve there. Thirteen.

Thirteen Starfleeters for...how many? Seven Tholians? Four had dropped from the ceiling, and three had charged through the door. The arithmetic was sickening. Mhezzu belatedly remembered the door and rushed up to it, hammering the controls until he found the one to close it.

Looking back at the carnage, the bodies and the blood, he only wanted to throw up. Only four other Starfleeters stood with him and Griffin, all seemingly shell-shocked. That was the entire platoon, all three squads. Only five of them were left, not counting Griffin. Out of twenty. Two had died at the breaching point. Thirteen had died here. The numbers just kept rolling through his mind.

"Th'Khessi!" Griffin barked on the PLATOON channel, the loud shout jerking Mhezzu out of his shock. "Secure the dead, check the wounded and police their weapons. Two guards on the door."

"Sir!" Mhezzu said automatically, just like he'd been trained, signalling for two of the survivors to man the door while the other two helped him with the bodies. Their movements were automatic, mechanical. They couldn't believe what had just happened.

The COMMAND comm opened. "Delta platoon, move up to Alpha's position and bring medics. Evac all wounded," Griffin ordered curtly. "Bravo and Charlie, report."

"Bravo here, we've got a dead end," the Bravo platoon leader said, frustrated. "It's just a fucking wall. They got three of my people with some sort of holographic trap around the same time they engaged Alpha. There's nothing in the center corridor."

"Charlie reporting," a second grim voice called in. "Some kind of automated defences, lightly manned, but nasty stuff. Mines and a phaser turret. No Tholian contact."

"Acknowledged, standby," Griffin said. Collecting Tholian weapons, Mhezzu glanced at the boss to see him checking the adjoining rooms to the corridor, then the corridor itself, as if inspecting it. Assessing it. Then he looked directly at Mhezzu, and the SQUAD channel clicked on.

"Th'Khessi, can you still fight?" he asked firmly. Mhezzu hesitated for a second, then he looked back at the bodies as the reserve platoon finally moved up to them. The medics immediately got to work, and suddenly, Mhezzu found it: his anger. His Andorian rage.

"Yeah, boss," he said with cold fury, standing back up and glancing at the other survivors of his platoon. Two of them nodded. "We're good."

"Okay," Griffin said, and then the COMMAND channel opened up once more. "Bravo, move to Charlie double-time, abandon the center corridor. The Tholians are going to hit what's left of Alpha any minute now. When they do, full assault. Run at them and keep running. Alpha will hold their current position supported by Delta."

There was a brief pause before the other platoon leaders acknowledged. Mhezzu understood immediately. It was simple enough. The Tholians had found a weak spot, hammered it, and now they'd hammer it again. He and his people, supported by the reserves, would defend their position and keep the rest of the Tholians occupied. There couldn't be many of the orange spiders left Twenty odd people defending a fixed position while everybody else rushed the far side of the base, pushed through it, then caught the Tholians from behind.

Simple plan. Good plan. It'd end with most of them dead, but Mhezzu was past caring. He was angry. To hell with it. He wanted to kill the bastard bugs that had killed his people. All his people. Taylor, Shemmu, Arnette, K'liki, Huang, Mannu. Some of them had been married. All of them had families, friends, lives. Mhezzu was going to do everything in his power to make sure that they were avenged.

Griffin stepped up to Mhezzu, clapping a hand on the Andorian's shoulder. "This is a good chokepoint," he said quickly over a private comm channel to him and Lieutenant Mustafa. "Hold it at all costs with the reserves. Do not retreat under any circumstances. Have some people at the door back behind you, your best shooters, and when things are getting ugly, have them use the grenades to clear the corridor while you retreat into these rooms. The Tholians will be expecting hard opposition, so give it to them. The longer you hold, the better a chance we have of securing the Genesis Device and saving this planet. Clear?"

Mhezzu nodded, but the other platoon leader, Lieutenant McLoughlin, hesitated. "Sir, this is a kill zone," he said anxiously. "You're just telling our people to die. That's...these are suicide tactics."

Griffin looked at the lieutenant, and though Mhezzu couldn't see beyond the faceplate, he could easily imagine the glare. "Yes, Lieutenant, I am. This is what we all volunteered for. Five million lives for twenty. If we go soft, the Tholians kill us all and all of them. Are you hearing me?"

The lieutenant sighed, shaking his head before looking down at the floor, dejected. "I...yes sir. We'll...we'll get it done, sir."

Mhezzu probably should've said something to his fellow platoon leader as Griffin ran away back down the corridor, but he didn't. Instead, he told the medics to hurry up with clearing the wounded and dead. There'd be more in the corridor soon enough.

* * *

Colonel Xalcrene of the Rachnil Brigade, one of the elite military units of the Tholian Assembly, watched her monitor with a professional eye. Her control room was cramped and reeked of Tholian aggression odour, some of which she knew had to be her own. Only four soldiers stood with her in the room, and as of now, they were the last of her tactical reserve. Every single other Tholian had been sent to attack the Federation troops.

Xalcrene flexed her claws anxiously. By nature, she despised order. Special forces like her troops weren't meant for this kind of fighting. They were offensive weapons, not defensive; their exceptional capabilities were wasted in battles like this. Then again, the entire campaign had been like this from the beginning, one mess after another. The admiral had promised that he had the support of the government and military high command, had assured her that Starfleet wouldn't counterattack, had predicted that they couldn't possibly defeat the Tholians in open battle even if they tried.

The latter two assertions had been patently wrong, and so late in the game, Xalcrene couldn't help but wonder at the first. She had trusted the admiral, regarded him as a friend, mated with him many times, but so much about this war didn't fit. Now the admiral was dead, his fleet was destroyed and thousands of good Tholian soldiers had died with it. Xalcrene had hoped to hold out on the ground, but even that had failed. The Starfleeters had displayed unusual ruthlessness far beyond their supposed capabilities. All that was left was one last gambit; a counterattack that would kill or outflank their remaining assault troops and force them to retreat out of her base, never to return.

"So unprofessional," one of Xalcrene's fellows whispered as he stared at a monitor. "See those markings on their armour? _Rank_ markings on combat apparel! See now, how this one, Griffin rushes to the other flank? If not for those ridiculous markings, we wouldn't have identified him. Now we know where he is going, and where he _isn't_. And so we know where their position is weak."

"Unprofessional," another Tholian agreed sullenly. "So disorganised too. Their tactics, their movements. It is painful to observe."

Xalcrene screeched in anger as she turned upon her subordinates. "_Unprofessional_, you say? Then how have they defeated us at every turn!"

"By drowning us in their own blood," the first Tholian answered, his tone dejected. "The most basic and barbaric of tactics."

"Yes," Xalcrene said, her tone becoming more measured. "But it has worked, and we did not account for it. We underestimated our foe and it has nearly doomed us. It may doom us yet." She turned back to her monitor, where the last Tholian counterattack was being assembled. Twenty one of her finest troops, and also the last of her troops, were assembling. It was a simple enough plan. She had thrown seven troops at the Starfleeters in that corridor, killing almost all of them. Now she was about to throw three times that number at a depleted force. It would be short work.

Nevertheless, there was no joviality among the Tholians. Their carapaces were dull; they were not looking forward to this slaughter. It would be a victory, but not one that any of them would remember fondly.

Xalcrene didn't need to give the order to attack. Her people were well-trained veterans, and they went to work without prompting. They were as efficient as ever, using hidden vents and clambering along the ceilings. The doors in the hallways were, of course, false. The Tholians didn't need doors when they could simply go _through_ the walls and ceilings. The doors made for an excellent focus for the Starfleeters' attention, though, permitting the Tholians to surprise them from above, from the sides, even one from below.

On the monitor, Xalcrene watched the fighting immediately degenerate into a bloody and mericless close quarters brawl. Knives flashed bloody. The dozen Starfleeters fought with unusual tenacity, though, and with more intelligence then before. Xalcrene leaned over her monitor, her burning orange eyes tracking their movements as they retreated into the adjoining rooms, exposing the Tholians to sharpshooters from the other side of the corridor. Grenades flew, detonating, killing a half dozen Tholians at once.

Problematic. The Federation troops were learning, and their tactics were adapting. The counterattack depended so much on speed…

Then came the fateful call: "Xalcrene, the Starfleet troops on the other side! They're attacking!"

"What?" Xalcrene cried out, astonished. She tapped her monitor, and sure enough, the Federation troops on the other side of the base were attacking. The automated defences were supposed to keep them out, but Xalcrene watched in horror as they seemed to attack _en masse_. Four of them died to mines and the turret, but their sacrifice enabled their fellows to defeat the mines and turret. With that obstacle defeated, the Starfleeters pushed on, with no defences left to stop them from rampaging through the heart of the Tholian base.

"How did they defeat the defences!?" Xalcrene demanded. "They should have stopped that assault in its tracks!"

"Cyberwarfare, jamming signals...I do not know what their engineers did," one of her subordinates said in frustration. "Most of the mines...they are not responding, they must have been disarmed. The turret's operating system was compromised." The soldier looked up at Xalcrene, his carapace flashing crimson in shock. "Xalcrene...the battle is lost."

She rushed to look back to the other side, but it was clear that her remaining troops were too heavily engaged to be withdrawn, fighting their enemies in frantic close quarters engagements. He was right. The battle was lost. Xalcrene could scarcely believe it. Then, flicking through the cameras, she spotted him: the man who had orchestrated the entire assault. He was easily identifiable, leading his troops forward.

Perhaps there was one way left. A futile, irrelevant gesture, perhaps...but perhaps not. And if Xalcrene was truly honest with herself, she didn't like that man and his brutish tactics, he who had gotten so many killed on both sides. No. Today, that man would die, and with him, so too would his assault.

It only took a couple of minutes for Xalcrene and her people to climb up into the shafts that ran through the ceiling of the base. They left all of their energy weapons behind, knowing that the Federation tricorders could detect them, instead only bringing knives. It was combat at its most basic, its most simplistic, not any different to what primordial Tholian hunters had done thousands of years past, when there had been no guns or technology.

The five of them skittered through the shafts with ease, the sounds of their movement concealed by the special design of the shafts. It wasn't long before they were directly above the Starfleet troops. Some of them aimed their weapons up at the ceiling, perhaps suspecting the threat, but none of them could see the Tholians. None of them would, not until it was too late.

Xalcrene waited. She was old, her crystalline structure more cracked from the years then she liked to admit, and her body ached at the unaccustomed strain. Nevertheless, she was an old hand at killing. She waited patiently, looking down through the shaft at the Starfleeters as they passed below her. She saw one group move to the room with the Genesis device, and she resisted the urge to click her claws in frustration. If only they knew. If only she'd been allowed to tell them.

Then she saw him: the man with the golden bands on his arm. Transparent dead crystal was scattered on his armour, remnants of a Tholian he'd killed, and fury filled Xalcrene. She let it. Rage was good now, made her faster, more deadly. Glancing back at her fellows, she clicked her claws, and then she tapped the button that released the shaft's hatches and dropped them.

All five Tholians fell upon their foes with ruthless efficiency. Xalcrene wasn't close enough to attack Griffin directly so she attacked another soldier, stabbing the being where most humanoid hearts were, the blade slicing through the hardened alloy of the armour as if it weren't there. Sensing a threat from behind, Xalcrene ducked as a blue bleam fired where her head had just been, and she rushed around with an acrobatic flip, batting the phaser rifle away. The black-armoured figure froze, giving Xalcrene ample time to slash the soldier's throat as one of her soldiers stabbed them into the back.

Again, another flick of her instincts, and this time Xalcrene dived to the side, again dodging another blue beam, the lethal energy missing by mere millimeters, scorching her torso. Screeching a war cry of fury, she saw that it was Griffin who had fired the shot, but he didn't get to fire another as one of her soldiers sliced the barrel off the end of the weapon, destroying it. The action saved Xalcrene's life, but before she could help, she saw Griffin immediately bash her soldier with the butt of his rifle. The impact was enough to daze the Tholian, enough time for the human to draw his phaser pistol and shoot the Tholian point-blank, killing him instantly with a shot to the torso.

Xalcrene screamed as she leapt at the murderer, slashing wildly, batting the phaser pistol away. Her slashes was fast and erratic; Griffin blocked one, two, but misread a feint and Xalcrene's knife ducked under his guard, slashing across the man's torso almost from his waist to his shoulder.

Then came the sound she yearned for, audible even through from the EVA suit: Griffin _screamed_, a scream of unimaginable pain as he fell to the deck, defeated. Xalcrene moved to deliver the finishing blow before something hit her, tackling her away from her target and smashing her against a wall.

Dazed, it took Xalcrene a moment to realise that it was a Federation soldier who'd tackled her. The soldier wasted precious time fumbling for his phaser pistol, though, but Xalcrene was already holding her knife. A quick slash was enough to open the being's throat, spurting red blood that instantly boiled in the hot high-pressure atmosphere, before she mercifully ended the soldier's life with two swift stabs. There was no use in the poor soul bleeding out for the minutes that such a death would take.

Aching awfully, Xalcrene heaved the heavy corpse of her, analysing the fighting with a professional's eye. One of her people was dead and one appeared badly injured from a phaser blast, but the other two seemed in good condition, chasing after a group of Federation troops who had fled into an adjoining room. It left Xalcrene alone, but she was satisfied. The assault was blunted. If her troops on the other side of the base could win out, and if she could win here…

Then her eyes caught movement, and Xalcrene slowly turned to see one of the black-armoured figures slowly stand. She could scarcely believe it. The man's armour was a mess, a long slash extended diagonally across the torso, the black metal stained red along the slash's length. Nevertheless, a faint blue forcefield kept the breach sealed, flickering inconsistently.

Griffin looked at her. He bent over and picked up the knife of the Tholian he'd slain, his movements laboured. Xalcrene stepped forward, brandishing her own knife, eyeing the human warily.

Her first attacks were just feints, her knife weaving complicated patterns, teasing Griffin's own knife, but the human stood firm, his own knife barely moving as he defended himself. He stepped forward, ignoring Xalcrene's gambit, and she stepped back. Infuriated, Xalcrene attacked again, this time with serious intent, her knife flashing with impossible speed, but Griffin was faster, his knife deflecting hers.

Then Xalcrene felt a hammer smash her head. She stepped back out of range, dumbfounded. She hadn't even seen Griffin's punch coming. The human stepped forward again, relentless, and she stepped back, only to find herself against a wall, trapped.

Xalcrene knew what was happening, knew how dangerous it was for the momentum to change in a fight, so summoning her fury, she attacked once more, a wild, desperate series of slashes and stabs, but Griffin blocked or evaded them all. Then another hammer struck her head without Xalcrene seeing, and the impact stunned her. She saw the human's leg come up and she moved to block it, but she was too slow as the armoured knee smashed into her torso.

Completely dazed and struggling to breathe, Xalcrene flailed again, but Griffin was ruthless. An armoured gauntlet seized the claw holding her knife, crushing it. Xalcrene screamed in agony, saw the knife aimed for her torso, and only just evaded the stab. On pure instinct she leapt up with an arachnid's grip, clutching the human around his head and using her own body weight to flip him onto the floor.

Before he had a chance to recover, she hurried to climb onto him. Lacking a knife, she jabbed her good claw into the open wound, the forcefield only absorbing some of the blow and causing Griffin to scream in agony of his own as fresh blood boiled away through the imperfect seal of the forcefield. She jabbed her claw again but it was blocked, and with a roar audible even through the sealed helmet, the human gripped her bodily and hurled her to the side against the floor. Before Xalcrene could respond, the human was on top of her, and then came the hammer blow.

The raw strength of the punch cracked the crystal of Xalcrene's face, but it was not the only one. Fists rained down on the Tholian, she screeching and roiling under the assault, before finally, eventually, the human found her knife. It was the last thing she saw before he drove it directly through her head.

* * *

Finally, after hours of combat, the fighting was over. There were no more Tholians to fight. It was just as well. There weren't many Starfleeters left either.

Standing in one of the rooms deep inside the base, Lieutenant Griffin was a wreck. He had a bad limp, his armour was dented in multiple places, and a long slash wound had come perilously close to killing him. If not for the emergency forcefield, a feature of the combat EVA suit, it would have. A medic had since closed the breach with sealant and patched the lieutenant up with painkillers and other drugs, but with the firm recommendation that he should return to the _Churchill_ as soon as possible.

Of course, Griffin ignored the recommendation. He wasn't finished yet. He thus stood in the room, empty save for him, Captain Agatha Schmidt in an ordinary EVA suit, Crewman Habib and a tall cylindrical device.

"You're sure this is the Genesis device," Captain Schmidt repeated to the crewman. "You're sure that this is the only one?"

"Yes sir," Habib said demurely. She was uninjured, but she had seen far more than her fair share of combat today. She was one of only six survivors of the Alpha and Delta platoons, when just a few hours prior, the combined groups had numbered forty. "We've completed two searches of this facility. This is definitely it. It appears to be mostly Tholian in design, though. I'd say that the similarities to Federation technology were coincidental. I don't think they stole Genesis from us."

"But this would've still terraformed the planet," Griffin interjected. The man's voice was almost dead. "As the threat projections showed."

Habib paused, prevaricating. "Yes and...um...no, sir. Yes, the device could have done that, but not for a long time. This is in an intermediate stage of assembly. The protomatter was installed, and that's why we thought it was nearly ready for deployment when we scanned it from outside the base, but the control matrix and dispersal systems were weeks away from completion. Based on this, I'd say that the Tholians stopped building this thing a few days ago, right after the battle in orbit."

Griffin stared. Schmidt looked at him, but she didn't say anything. Instead, Griffin just turned and left.

He didn't consciously choose which corridor to walk down to go back outside. Or perhaps he did. Griffin wasn't sure. Nevertheless, when he got there, the place was a slaughterhouse. The troops had been given their orders and they'd followed them to the letter, just as he'd expected them to. The result was clear: the bodies were thick in the confined space of the corridor. Some of them were laid on top of others as a result of the intense murderous combat. The gore and viscera of a half dozen species were on display, charred by the searing hot atmosphere.

The wounded had long since been evacuated but there weren't many personnel left to care for the dead, so the bodies lay, awaiting disposition. Griffin knew the numbers, of course. He had assigned twenty three people to defend the corridor. Eighteen had died, fending off twenty two Tholians before reinforcements had arrived. The bodies were everywhere. Most of them had been from the_ Churchill_, people he'd known and trained.

Thus, Griffin simply stood in the bloodstained corridor. He stayed there for hours, only occasionally moving into one of the other rooms, where the bodies were at least more spread out. He simply stared.

A medic came through, going so far as to shout at Griffin that he had to leave, but Griffin ignored him. Frustrated, the medic simply treated the man as best he could, replenished the lieutenant's air supply and went to find other patients.

Commander Soo-Lung came next. He hadn't been with the assault force, instead commanding the rest of the troops outside the base. By now, a mix of Starfleet personnel and civilian volunteers from the hospitals in the capital city were tending to the dead. Still, Griffin stayed and stared as the bodies were tended to around him. Commander Soo-Lung spent ten minutes trying to reach the seemingly comatose lieutenant, issuing direct orders and fervent pleas, but the man stayed silent.

Captain Schmidt was next. By now, Griffin had been standing there for five hours and the last of the bodies were gone. This time, she got through, gentle compassion proving sufficient to finally move him. She escorted the man slowly back through the battle-scarred base, helping him as he limped slowly along. Both still wore EVA suits, even though the base interior had filled with standard atmosphere from outside. Schmidt helped Griffin to the canyon outside, beamed up with him back to the _Churchill_, then escorted him the rest of the way to Sickbay.

The doctors were kind enough to give him his own room when Schmidt dropped him off. They removed the wrecked armour and tended to his own wounds, but still, Griffin didn't say a word.

A month later, when Griffin returned to his family, he wouldn't say a word about Menelax.

Two months later, when debriefed by Starfleet Command and the President of the Federation, he wouldn't say a word about Menelax.

A year later, when his wife pressed him on the war, he wouldn't say a word about Menelax.

Almost a century later, even when he was blessed with a new wife and daughter, he wouldn't say a word about Menelax.

No words could be said.


End file.
